by L. Z. Hunter
“Keep everyone close,” Powell said. He looked around the dig site. Everything became surreal. It reminded him of a giant movie screen. IMAX. It wasn’t too difficult to accept he was actually in a plush leather seat inside a theatre. If he tried hard enough, he might believe he could smell popcorn. Buttered.
He was losing it. His mind was slipping away. He wanted to laugh. He needed to laugh. The somber and desperate nature surrounding them was like the humidity. It was all encompassing. He was being swallowed by it. Devoured.
Ian moved ahead of them, keeping low to the ground. He held his rifle in both hands. The shoulder strap was wrapped around a forearm. He stepped heel to toe for each foot. He was quiet, although everything was wet, muddy. There wasn’t much that would crunch under foot. The natives followed suit. They stayed low and moved swiftly.
Where were the others?
Powell was almost afraid of the answer. He didn’t want to stumble on more remains. He didn’t think his brain could process it. There was only so much more he could take. He wondered how soldiers handled war. He couldn’t imagine being eighteen and shipped off to fight enemies on foreign soil. It was why he didn’t join the military after high school. He knew war wasn’t something he’d been built for, and yet here he was.
Looking over his shoulder, Powell kept expecting to see someone or something sneaking up on him. As much as he hated to admit it, he could only envision a stupid dinosaur behind him. It made it very difficult controlling his breathing. He knew it was a panic attack coming on. Fight or flight mentality. Everything inside of him screamed, “Run!”
There was nowhere to run.
Who was he kidding? There was nowhere to run. There was no chance they’d get away.
“Where are the others?” Powell said.
Claire looked back at him. Her eyes were open too wide, looked too wild.
She was losing it, too.
Did he look to her the way she looked to him? “Where are the other mercenaries?”
He knew Claire didn’t have an answer to his question. He knew it, but he asked anyway.
Ahead of them, Ian stopped. He motioned for everyone to get lower. He was practically on his belly in the mud. He waved for Powell to come up to the front of the line.
“Keep eyes behind us. I don’t want anything sneaking up on us,” Powell said to Claire. “Okay?”
She nodded.
He passed the native employees, crawled up on his belly and stopped beside Ian. “What? You see something?”
“I don’t see shit. I don’t hear shit. I am not sure where the others are.”
“So what do we do?” Powell said.
“Get that kid who was pointing all over my map and have him start you guys toward the river,” Ian said.
“And what about you?”
“I’m not leaving my friends, Louis. I can look for them better on my own. I don’t need an entourage. You guys will just slow me down or give away my location making noise,” Ian said.
None of them had made a sound. He was pointlessly throwing stones. Whatever. “So you’re leaving us?”
“Man the fuck up, Powell, will ya? You’re all about getting them all home, so do it. Get them all home. We’ll rendezvous at the river. Same spot I highlighted on the map. Got it?”
“I don’t think this is a good idea. Splitting up can’t be the right thing to do. I mean, you know that right? You know that splitting up is a horrible plan,” Powell said. He felt his mind unravel. Frayed ends came loose.
Ian shook his head as he gripped Powell’s shirt into a balled fist. “We don’t have time to dick around, Powell. We’re losing sunlight. My friends are out there. Who knows what kind of trouble they’re in. They might need me. They could be in some serious shit right now. Their very lives might depend on me showing up and blowing the fuck out of shit, okay? And you know what’s stopping me from doing that, from saving them? You are, asshole. You. So go on now, get the fuck out of here. Get them back to their villages if you want, and meet me at the river.”
Powell stared into eyes that were as dark as the coltan they mined. He knew he’d never change the merc’s mind. He just wasn’t sure he could lead. Giving direction to the mercs, calling the shots, that was one thing. Leading was quite another.
A single gunshot rang out from somewhere deep inside the forest. The sound echoed. It was near impossible to pinpoint where the sound came from.
“Go on. Get out of here. I mean it, go. I’ve got this,” Ian said. “And Powell, keep your eyes open. You at the front. Claire at the back end. Those fuckers are cunning as shit.”
Chapter 15
Louis Powell ran toward Claire, looking over his shoulder and catching a glimpse of Ian Ross just as he was swallowed up by leaves and branches. The man was brave. Only certain people could run at danger when everyone else moved away from it. Powell wanted to help the mercenaries. He wasn’t sure if it was for the right reasons, though. He would get in the way. The gun in his hand could prove more useless than the machete. Aiming. Firing. He had a few extra clips. How could he help?
He stopped in front of Akia, and because of the language barrier, pantomimed opening paper and pointing at imaginary locations.
Akia produced the map Ian had drawn.
Powell pointed at where he thought Akia’s village had been. He motioned with both hands toward the path.
Another gunshot rang out. Then a short burst of rounds fired.
Akia nodded. He seemed to understand. He waved for everyone to follow him.
Powell knew that Ian said Claire should follow last. He didn’t feel comfortable with that. He thought she’d be safer toward the front of the line. There was no rhyme or reason. If they were attacked, it wasn’t going to make much difference where anyone stood in a line of seven people.
Rapid gunfire came from behind them. Powell kept looking back. He hoped he’d see the others running toward them. As much as he considered Marksman a bit of a thorn in his side, he was anxious to see him. No one came up behind them. He wanted to know what was happening. His imagination went a little wild. He pictured giant dinosaurs chasing the mercenaries and them firing over their shoulders at the prehistoric kaiju.
He didn’t want to lose sight of Claire. She stayed close. Akia and Ruh swung machetes in an attempt to clear away the growth; the girls were directly behind Claire, side by side. They looked so young, and small, and frail; Kacancu was behind the girls, and Powell thought the young man looked anxious wanting to run on ahead, that the group might be moving too slowly for his taste.
Powell would not mind moving a little faster. No one ran, as much as walked fast. Very fast. He wasn’t sure his legs had the endurance or stamina. He felt physically drained. The sweat just kept spilling from his pores. He knew his energy was being sapped. Watching his feet, he did his best not to trip. Going down and breaking a bone or twisting an ankle seemed fitting. He almost expected it to happen. It could be why no one was running too fast.
More gunshots were fired off.
Instinctively he threw his hands up, covering the back of his head.
He heard crying.
The gun play scared Mangeni. Nafula reached for the girl’s hand.
There was one good thing that worked in their favor. If the mercs were really shooting at velociraptors, then he knew where the dangerous dinosaurs were. Back there. Behind them.
He wished Mangeni would stop crying. He could hear her, as if her sobs echoed, bouncing off the low-hanging leaves. He knew they were making enough noise as it was cutting their way through the trees along the path. Anything extra might be just enough to attract unwanted attention.
There were two short and two long bursts of gunfire.
It sounded a little closer to them.
Powell stopped walking and faced the sound. It came from the left, best he could tell. He took a moment to wipe at the sweat off his forehead. His forearm was already damp with sweat. All he did was merely smear it across his skin.
Kacancu tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around. The native waved him on, encouraging him to keep moving.
There was yelling. Someone screamed. They sounded like they were in severe pain. Powell didn’t think his mouth could get any drier. He couldn’t even swallow. His heart hammered hard behind his ribcage. He looked Kacancu in the eyes. The man looked as if fear filled him from the feet up.
“Go, go, go,” Powell said, pushing Kacancu forward. They raced to catch up with the others. Kacancu’s foot snagged a vine stretched across the forest floor. He pitched forward, arms out to catch himself. Powell reached for the back of Kacancu’s shirt, wrapped around his waist. He managed to keep the native from falling. They didn’t stop, though. They pressed on, kept moving forward. Nafula and Mangeni still held hands. They were running. Powell saw the backside of Claire, but could not see Akia and Ruh.
He worried they were all going to get separated if they didn’t stay tight, close.
Ian Ross should have come with them. He would have been a better guide, a better guard.
More gunshots.
Someone was yelling, giving orders.
It sounded like Charlie Erb, that deep guttural tone of voice. That was excellent. It meant at least two of the mercenaries were still alive. Erb wouldn’t be shouting commands out to himself. The voice was too muffled though. Powell couldn’t hear what exactly had been said. He did realize though that the mercenaries were getting closer and closer to them. He didn’t like that. Were the mercs leading the enemy right toward them?
There was too much sound. It surrounded them. It came from them. It came from every direction. Powell couldn’t stop himself from looking everywhere, his neck hurt from turning this way and that. There were birds cawing. Chimps cackling. They must be in the trees, safe, watching the show unfold below them. It sounded like trees falling over. Wood splitting.
Things cracked and boomed. There was a loud explosion.
Powell saw the fiery red ball of fire roll up from between the trees and into the sky through a gap in the rain forest canopy.
Had that been a grenade that went off?
Powell tried going under a low branch. His shirt snagged onto something. He spun around. His foot hit a raised root. It was his turn to pinwheel. He realized he’d let go of the handgun as his feet left the ground. He fell hard on his side. White stars floated across blackness. Opening his eyes, the black was gone, but not the stars.
He winced, sitting up. He touched his middle finger to his temple. The skin was sliced open. Blood oozed from the gash. Other than that, he was fine. When he stood up, he wobbled. His legs felt wiry, like they might not support his weight. He set a palm against a tree for balance. He opened his eyes wide and breathed out, “Whoa,” he said.
He felt woozy.
The others were gone. He couldn’t even see Kacancu.
Where had he dropped the gun? It had to be in the brush to the right. He got back down onto his knees. That felt a hundred percent better than standing at the moment. He knew if he passed out now he didn’t have far to fall. Passing out might just happen, too. He felt around with his hands.
And stopped. He remembered the size of the spiders. The snakes. The creatures that lived in this godforsaken land. He couldn’t leave the gun. They needed the protection it offered.
He heard someone yelling for help. It was either Stacy Jennings or Becky Robinson.
She sounded close. Too close.
It wasn’t Claire. That much he was certain.
He stood back up. He kicked the brush out of the way with his foot. Nothing was biting him through the steel-toe boot. At least, he didn’t think anything could.
He parted aside branches and thick, fuzzy green leaves. He hoped he hadn’t lost the gun.
It wasn’t lost. It fell right in this area. He just wasn’t sure how long he’d dedicate looking for it. At some point, Claire would realize he wasn’t with them. Someone would. He didn’t want them turning around and coming back for him. This was his fault. He would not be the reason for slowing them down. They had so far to go still.
But he didn’t want to leave the gun.
A rifle fired off three shots. They sounded timed. Calculated. Bang. Bang. Bang.
He hoped the mercs were dropping dinosaurs, eliminating the threat once and for all. He just wanted to reach the rendezvous quickly and safely.
“Louis? Louis?”
It was Claire. They were coming back for him. Or waiting for him.
He’d have to give up on the…
He saw the gun just at the moment he was about to give up the search. He bent forward and retrieved it. His head felt like it was half-filled with water. It sloshed around freely inside his skull. It made him teeter left and right on unsteady legs. Regardless, he had the gun, and he was on his feet.
He ran toward the sound of Claire’s voice. The first thing he wanted to do was tell her to stop shouting. If the mercs were close enough for them to hear, the dinosaurs would surely hear her yelling his name, too.
The danger was all around them.
What if the mercs couldn’t differentiate between them running through the trees, as opposed to a velociraptor running through the trees, and just opened fire?
“Louis!” It was Kacancu. He smiled, either proud he’d said a name in English, or just to see Powell alive and still following them.
After a few more steps, and around a slight bend in the trail, were the others.
“What happened?” Claire said.
“I tripped,” Powell said. “We need to keep moving.”
“We weren’t leaving you, Louis.”
There was no arguing. He wouldn’t leave her behind either. “Okay. Let’s keep going.”
Another grenade exploded. The black smoke was all Powell saw. Thankfully, the trees and everything in the Congo was perpetually wet. A forest fire would not help the situation any. “Come on, everyone. Let’s go. Let’s go!”
It felt like they were in the middle of a war zone. Powell didn’t have eyes on the enemy.
They moved faster now. Almost running, they parted branches and leaves with the back of their hands as best they could. Powell was thankful it was midday. If they had been forced to move this fast in the dark, it could have been treacherous.
Ahead, a tree fell over.
It landed across the path. Akia had stopped just in time. Had he have been running any faster, he might have been crushed under the weight.
Gunfire sounded. The ka-ka-ka-ka-ka was loud. Close.
Powell and the others huddled around Akia. Ruh climbed over the trunk. Powell lifted Mangeni. She struggled in his grasp, kicking and flailing. He did not know how to calm her down. There wasn’t time. He hoisted her up and over the tree. Ruh took the handoff and set her down on the ground. Nafula was next. Akia sat on the trunk and held out his hand. Claire reached for it. He lifted her up and over.
Kacancu went next, and then Powell.
What knocked the tree over?
There was a roar. It sounded like a monster from a horror movie.
“Was that what I think it was?” Powell said. He wasn’t looking for an answer. He wasn’t even sure if he’d spoken the words out loud.
Something exploded to their left.
The ball of fire was so close that Powell felt the heat on his arm. He watched the flames lick at the forest canopy. “We’re right here!” He wanted the mercs to know where they were. He didn’t want them tossing a grenade at them. “We’re right here!”
He hated shouting. He didn’t want the dinosaurs to know their location. He couldn’t think of any other way to warn the mercs, though.
There was another growl.
It was definitely unlike anything he had ever heard before.
Akia kept waving his arms, he said something over and over, that Powell could only assume meant, “This way, this way!”
They trotted along the path again. Not running. Powell kept looking up. He didn’t think falling trees was going to be an issue. No
w he wanted to be ready. Anything could happen.
More gunfire.
Akia was stopped. He stood still, like a statue.
Everyone else stopped.
Powell felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. “Why are we stopped?”
Claire held up a hand.
Ahead of them, just a few feet in front of Akia, Powell saw it. The thing blended in well with the trees. It was like natural camouflage. It was the head that moved, that gave it away.
The velociraptor stood about six or seven feet tall. Its soft grey, almost bluish flesh matched the surroundings. It reminded Powell of a chameleon. The dinosaur seemed to be trying to change color. Was that possible? Was that something they could do?
Mucus sprayed off flaring nostrils.
It must smell them. He could smell them. Their body odor was rank, raw. He hoped standing still made a difference.
The weight of the gun in Powell’s hand increased. It was almost as if it wanted him to remember he was holding one. Even if he had been a skilled sniper, he wasn’t sure if he’d take a shot. Not with everyone else in front of him. He had never fired a weapon. That made him more dangerous than the velociraptor.
His mind was blank. Black. There was not a single helpful thought inside his brain. His legs felt like they’d been coated in cement. He couldn’t move. He hadn’t tried moving. He just knew if he wanted to, there would be no way his legs would respond.
Claire was too close to the dinosaur.
That was the one thought that made its way into his mind.
Claire was too close.
He couldn’t keep still. He needed to do something. The forest had grown deathly silent. Except for everyone breathing, there was nothing else to hear. Even at a whisper, it sounded like he was screaming. The dinosaur continued to sniff the air, its head slowly pivoting left and right. He felt the rubber grip on the handgun handle. He let his first finger slide into the guard and set it softly on the trigger. He made sure every movement was slow. Cautious.
Time both stopped and sped up. He felt like he was moving in slow motion. It seemed like they’d been frozen in place for hours.