by John Sneeden
“Are you sure it wasn’t an animal?” Jorge asked.
“I don’t think so. I saw the eyes… a man’s eyes, just peering at me from the shadows.”
Jorge’s face reddened. “Why didn’t you tell us about that?”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure what it was… I mean, I thought it was a man, but I couldn’t be sure.”
“What did you do?” Brett asked.
“I got my gun, but by the time I looked back, the face was gone. After that, I heard some movement in several places, but I couldn’t really see anything.”
Jorge said something in Portuguese. From his tone, it sounded like a string of expletives.
Brett looked at Jorge. “Do you think it was the Dawanis?”
“Possibly,” he said, stroking his mustache. “Unfortunately we don’t have any way of knowing.”
Brett looked at Zane. “Do you think it has something to do with what happened here?”
“Yes, I think it does. In fact, I think we’d better—”
Before he could finish, Artur gave a loud grunt. Zane turned in time to see the Brazilian wobble then collapse to the ground. Something was sticking out of his shoulder.
Just as Zane realized what was happening, a long, wailing shriek bellowed out of the jungle behind them.
CHAPTER FORTY
“BEHIND THE ROCKS!” Zane shouted as another arrow hissed overhead.
A third was right behind it, burying into a vine branch behind them.
Zane seized Brett, pulling him down behind the largest boulder. It was a miracle they hadn’t been hit. He turned and saw that Jorge had pulled Artur behind another rock a few feet away.
The barrage of arrows intensified over the next few seconds. Zane dropped his pack and brought his rifle around. He crept to his left, setting up in the space between two boulders. It only gave him a limited view of the jungle, but it was all he had.
Zane looked at Brett. “Get your gun out.”
“All I have is a pistol. I can’t—”
“Just do it. We have to scare them. It’s the only way to keep them from making a run. They do that, and we’ll be overrun.”
War cries and wails echoed out of the jungle, raising the hairs on the back of Zane’s neck. The sounds were primordial, beast-like.
Zane rose up on one elbow then unleashed a spray of bullets across the wall of green. The wails and arrows seemed to die in response, at least for the time being.
Brett rose and fired off several rounds. Suddenly, he looked to his right and shouted, “One o’clock!”
Zane pivoted just in time to see one of the attackers dart across a gap in the jungle, only to disappear once again. He projected where the man would come to a stop and fired two shots. He heard a scream. At least one of the bullets had found its mark.
With the lull in action, Zane looked over to check on Artur. Jorge was working on the wound. “How is he?”
Jorge spoke without looking up. “I think he’s going to be fine.” As Zane watched, Jorge used a knife to saw off part of the arrow about an inch from where it had entered Artur’s flesh. “I’m going to have to leave most of it in. I think the bleeding will be worse if I take it out.”
Zane hoped it hadn’t delivered poison into the Brazilian’s bloodstream. He’d read that some indigenous tribes still coated the tips of their arrows with secretions from the skin of the poison dart frog. The dose was so potent that death often came within minutes.
Without warning, the wailing began again, followed by several more arrows. Brett continued to fire random shots into the jungle, which seemed to help, but they needed something else. In a few minutes, the tribe would get used to the strange weapons, and once they did, they might make a full-frontal assault.
What they needed was to actually kill a few of the attackers. Killing them at such a distance might cause general panic.
“Three o’clock!” Brett shouted. Zane turned and saw that two tribesmen had crept toward them using the shadow cast by the mountain. As soon as they were spotted, they sprinted forward, wailing, their spears raised. They were painted in black, their eyes circled in white.
Dawanis.
Before Zane could react, Brett raised his pistol with two hands. He squeezed the trigger, but nothing happened. The gun had jammed.
The attackers seemed to sense their opportunity. They howled with delight and rushed the boulders.
Zane reacted instinctively, lifting his rifle. It would be risky shooting past Brett’s head, but he had no choice. Steadying his aim, he squeezing off two successive shots. The tribesmen stiffened, the wails dying in their throats. Both men wobbled for a moment before falling over. They were dead before they hit the ground.
The wailing died immediately. He doubted it would last, but at least it gave them time to regroup. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Zane reached down and removed his radio.
Jorge shook his head. “I’ve already tried. They don’t work here.”
“What?” Zane’s brow furrowed. “They have a range of several miles.”
Jorge nodded toward the slope of the mountain. “The only thing I can figure is that it’s something about the rocks.”
He had to try anyway, while there was a lull in the fighting. Lifting the radio, he tried to raise one of the Green Berets. There was only static in response. Zane cursed and slid the radio back in his pocket.
“What are they doing?” Brett hissed. “Things have gotten awfully quiet.”
“Hard to say,” Zane said. “We might have injected some fear into them, or they could be gearing up for an attack. If they do, we may be in some serious trouble.”
“Why do you say that?” Jorge asked.
Zane nodded toward the tree line. “My eyes and ears tell me there are at least several dozen archers back in those trees, which means there could be many more than that. If they decide to rush, we have no chance of bringing them all down, even with our semiautomatics.”
“I’m down to two magazines,” Brett said.
“They’ve seen what our weapons can do now, so the fear of the unknown may hold them off for a bit longer,” Zane continued. “In the meantime, I have an idea.” He moved to his left and lay down between the two boulders.
“What are you doing?” Brett asked.
“Just keep me covered. Make sure they don’t try to creep up on us again.”
After sorting through several options, Zane kept coming back to one in particular. If he could somehow kill the leader, the head of the snake, that might cause the others to lose the will to fight. They had already witnessed two of their own drop dead, and hopefully seeing the same thing happen to their chieftain would be too much.
Zane placed his rifle against his shoulder and used the scope to examine the jungle on the other side of the clearing. He focused on a large Brazil nut tree with lots of dense foliage. Each time the wailing commenced, it started with a shriek that seemed to come from there. Now it was just a matter of finding his man.
He moved the sights around, examining openings in the foliage, looking for movement or flashes of color.
Suddenly an arrow hissed out of the woods and glanced off the boulder on Zane’s left, missing him by about a foot.
“One of them is locked in on you,” Brett said.
Jorge scooted closer to him. “Whatever you’re doing… it’s too risky.”
“I need the two of you to watch the jungle,” Zane said without moving. “Let me know if it looks like they’re about to make a move. If they fire, fire back. I just need some time.”
Seconds later, another arrow glanced off the boulder to Zane’s right. Jorge and Brett responded immediately by returning fire.
As they kept the attackers occupied, Zane continued looking for his target. As he moved his scope back and forth, the wailing began again, only this time the cries were joined by the beating of drums. Zane’s heart thumped loudly in his chest. In all likelihood, they were preparing for an assault.
Just as he was abou
t to move his scope, Zane caught a flash of color on the left side of the tree. He placed the sights on a small opening between two limbs. Something hovered in the shadows there. He moved his body a bit, giving himself a better angle. Suddenly he froze. Staring out of the foliage were two cold eyes rimmed in white.
Boom, boom, boom. Boom, boom, boom. The drums continued, and the wails grew louder. The tribesmen were trying to whip themselves into a frenzy.
As Zane fixed on his target, rivulets of sweat ran down his forehead and into his eyes.
Boomboomboom. Boomboomboom. The beat was faster now.
“I can see a couple of them crouching just inside the trees, preparing for an attack,” Brett said, his voice tinged with concern.
Zane spoke without turning his head. “Be prepared to fire if they come out, but not a second before.”
Zane realized his scope had shifted slightly, causing him to lose his target. He moved it back to the left. Where was the opening?
The booming of the drums was building toward a crescendo, and the tribe seemed to be working itself into a state of delirium.
“They’re gathering at the forest edge,” Brett said. “I’m going to fire.”
“No, don’t shoot!” Zane shouted. “I need a few more seconds.”
He moved the scope sights around quickly, searching.
Got it!
“They’re coming!” Brett shouted.
“I said don’t shoot.”
The drums were beating so fast that they seemed like a beating heart. The tribesmen were seconds away from launching their attack.
“Zane!”
The loud crack of the gunshot pierced the air. The forest went silent, followed by the sound of a body snapping through the limbs on its way to the ground. A second later, it landed with a loud thud.
A long moment of silence was followed by the distinct sound of movement in the jungle. Were they attacking? Zane raised his rifle then lowered it again when he realized the footsteps were fading into the distance. The tribe was retreating.
As Zane let out a sigh, a voice barked from his radio. “Zane? Do you read?”
He reached down and pulled it out of his pocket. “This is Watson, over.”
“What’s going on down there?” It was Tocchet.
“We ran into a little trouble, but I think we’re all clear now.”
“Copy that. We couldn’t reach you earlier, so I started heading in your direction. While en route I heard a shot fired.”
Zane frowned. “Why were you trying to reach us? Is there a problem?”
“No problem at all.” After a brief pause, he said, “In fact, I have good news. We think Osak may have found a way inside the mountain.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
ZANE LOOKED OVER at Artur as they moved west down the buffer. Pain was scrawled across his face, but on a positive note, he had been able to keep pace. They still hadn’t removed the arrow. Jorge and Zane both thought it would be better to let one of the Green Berets take a look first. Both had extensive medical training, and the decision was better left in their hands.
“Looks like we have two at twelve o’clock,” Brett said.
Zane looked up. Tocchet was coming toward them, and someone was walking at his side. The setting sun cast them as silhouettes, so at this point, he couldn’t tell more than that it was a woman. “Who is that with him?”
“It looks like Dr. Mills,” Brett said.
As they drew closer, the familiar shape of the anthropologist came into view.
“How is our patient?” Katiya asked as she rushed toward them.
“He’s hanging in there,” Zane said.
“When you told me he was injured, I called down Dr. Mills,” Tocchet explained. “She told me before that her father was a doctor.”
Zane looked at her. “Anthropologist, biologist, and now general practitioner?”
“And there’s a lot more you still don’t know.” She moved to Artur’s side and saw that the makeshift bandage was soaked in blood. “Oh my.”
“As you can see, he took an arrow to his upper arm,” Jorge said. “I used a shirt to wrap up the wound, but I’m not sure it will last.”
Katiya leaned closer. “You did a fine job. I’ll take a closer look when we get back.” She looked up at Artur. “How do you feel?”
“I’m not going to lie. It’s killing me, but I’ll be fine.”
“I was worried we might have been dealing with poisoned tips,” Zane said.
“He wouldn’t be walking now if they had been,” Katiya said. “The use of poison-tipped arrows isn’t particularly widespread anymore, but out here anything is possible.” She looked at him. “Who did this?”
“My guess would be the Dawanis.”
“Could you tell how many there were?”
“Too many to count,” Zane said. “The jungle was crawling with them.”
“Glad you all made it out alive.”
As Katiya made a couple of quick adjustments to the bandage, Zane glanced over at the slope. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the vines. They seemed thicker here. A few of the primary branches were the size of tree trunks.
“So what did Osak find, exactly?” Brett asked as Katiya finished up and the group began walking again.
“We’re not sure. He somehow got ahead of us, and when he came back, he told us he’d found a way into the mountain.”
“So you never saw what he was talking about?” Zane asked.
“Not yet. We followed him to a ravine. There was a trail that ran back through some shrub, but that’s as far as I got. We discovered our radios weren’t working, so Sergeant Bennett sent Sergeant Tocchet back to establish contact with you guys.”
“He didn’t describe it at all?” Brett asked.
Katiya shook her head. “Max said he couldn’t understand all the details. Apparently Osak kept using a word he wasn’t familiar with.”
Zane suddenly noticed that Tocchet had begun to slow. Just ahead on the right was a ravine that cut into the mountain. Each side was guarded by a rocky ridge, and the center was filled with what appeared to be an impenetrable mass of shrubs and vines. “Talk about a briar patch,” he said.
Tocchet waited for them to catch up then said, “Not sure we could even hack our way through if we had to.”
Katiya pointed toward an opening. “Thankfully, we won’t need to. There’s our trail.”
Tocchet led the way in, and the others followed in single file. Zane entered last, right behind Katiya.
Once inside, he realized that the thick vegetation wasn’t really a mix of plants. There might be a few small shrubs, but the bulk of the growth was the same vine that seemed to cover the mountain. It was so thick in places that he doubted he could even stick a hand through.
Katiya caught Zane’s attention then pointed up. “It’s like a tunnel in here.”
Zane tilted his head back. She was right. The vines curled overhead, forming a tightly fitted roof, so tight that it blotted out the sky. The whole structure had a bizarre feel. “If this is the entrance, I’m not sure I want to go in,” he said, only half joking. “Who do you think cut this out?”
Katiya slowed so that the two could walk together. “I wondered the same thing. At first, I thought it was the animals passing through, but it seems way too smooth for that.”
“It reminds me of one of those covered plant tunnels in an arboretum.” He pulled out a flashlight and shone it on some of the limbs as they passed by. “The strange thing is that they don’t look cut. It’s almost as though they grew this way. Only that can’t be possible.”
After they rounded a turn, Katiya squeezed his arm. “Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to speak earlier. I wanted to make sure Artur was okay.”
Zane held up a hand. “Don’t even think twice. We’re all more worried about his health than anything else. How did he look?”
“I think he’s going to be fine. I’m ninety percent sure it missed all the arteries in that part of the arm, but I
want to have a closer look before I jump to any conclusions.”
“Are you going to recommend we take the arrow out?”
Katiya pressed her lips together tightly. “That’s part of what I’m going to look at. Again, if it isn’t near an artery, it will be better to pull it out and sew him up.”
The trail suddenly narrowed ahead, leaving only enough room for one person to pass through at a time, so Zane placed his hand on Katiya’s waist and guided her forward. She smiled at him as she continued past.
He followed her through, and as they neared the end of the tight stretch, he saw a vine dangling out into the path. It seemed oddly out of place. It reminded him of well-coiffed men with one rogue strand of hair sticking out.
Unable to resist, Zane reached out to push the vine back into place. Then, as his fingers were about to make contact, a tendril at the end curled away from him. He stopped, a scowl crossing his face. He reached out again, and once again the tendril curled back. He remembered reading about the phenomenon of certain plants moving when stimulated. The Venus flytrap was one the article had mentioned. When an insect touched the trigger bristle, the two giant leaves would slam shut, trapping the unfortunate bug inside.
Only that was movement after contact. How could a plant sense that it was about to be touched?
“Something wrong?” Katiya asked.
“No, everything’s fine.” After taking one last glance, he continued on. “I was just looking at some of the vines. Is it just me or do some of these plants seem a little strange?”
“You know, it’s funny you say that,” she said, “because I’ve been thinking the same thing. As I mentioned before, I’ve studied the flora and fauna of the Amazon for a long time.” She gestured toward the plants that encircled the trail. “But I don’t recognize this particular species. At first, I thought it was a strangler fig, but now I’m not so sure. It almost looks like a strangler fig on steroids, larger and more powerful than the ones I’m familiar with.”
Zane looked at her. “Strangler figs? That’s really the name?”
She smiled. “Yes, they’re part of the genus Ficus. It’s one of the most fascinating plants in the rainforest.”