Hunting Daylight (9781101619032)

by Maitland, Piper

  Oh, what a mess he’d been in those days. Tidy and precise, his pencils lined up in a row. Shy and bumbling. More skilled at introducing a gene into bacteria than inviting a woman to the cinema. But he’d fallen headlong in love with Caro. He couldn’t stop touching her, looking at her, smelling her. The scientific part of his brain had wondered if she’d emanated an addictive substance. Whatever it was, he wanted more.

  From the beginning, they’d shared a strong, sensual connection, but they’d fit together in other ways. She’d been an historian, so they’d shared a love of academia, but unlike him, she wasn’t pedantic. Her idea of a romantic date was an evening at the Bodleian Library. She was smart, funny, audacious, straightforward, and tender. She knew when to be ladylike and when to be risqué. Yet she could also be proper and bawdy all at once—that was thrilling. When they were together, Jude stood a little taller, feeling dashing and brave for the first time.

  Just when the broken pieces inside him had begun to realign, he’d learned about her hybrid genes. He remembered how stunned he’d felt. Adrenaline had pumped through his veins, and a huge neon sign began flashing inside his head: fight or flight.

  He’d picked flight. As he walked away from Caro that night, he decided to return to Dalgliesh, his family’s home in York. His stepmother had turned it into a tourist attraction, and she always pointed out that the manor was built around a hawthorne tree. To this day it thrived in the cellar gift shop. That was when he knew that he couldn’t leave Caro. If a tree could grow in the dark, then love was just as durable. Just as miraculous.

  Jude awoke shortly before daylight, when Hamilton crept into their tent. Rain was hammering against the canvas roof. A few minutes later, Jude drifted back to sleep, and the next time he opened his eyes, it was still raining.

  He rubbed his eyes and sat up. “What time is it?”

  “A little after dusk,” Hamilton said, tossing Jude a jacket with a hood. “Let’s get something to eat.”

  Rain blew sideways, sweeping across the path, as Jude and Hamilton headed toward the mess pavilion. The air was overheated, thick and impenetrable. Jude pursed his lips with each breath, as if he were sucking oxygen through a wet carpet. As he moved down the path, he noticed that the spotlights had not been repaired and trash lay in heaps. Some tents had been flattened.

  “What happened?” Jude said, tugging his hood over his head.

  “They ran,” Hamilton said. “A Swedish microbiologist and a primate expert.”

  “When?”

  “You slept through the commotion,” Hamilton said. “They got shot.”

  They stepped into the pavilion. Lenny stood up front with an armed Congolese soldier. “We’re rationing the blood,” he called. “You only get one pint a day. So make it last.”

  Tatiana walked up, her face streaked with water, her hair flat and dripping. “You guys need to come with me,” she said, pointing at Jude and Hamilton.

  “Where to?” Hamilton said.

  “I’ve got some equipment at the old camp,” she said, giving the men halogen lanterns. “I need you to help me bring it back.”

  She strode toward the bai, oblivious to the rain. A big-shouldered Congolese soldier walked behind her.

  “Old camp?” Hamilton said, turning to Jude. “How many are there?”

  “Maybe we should run for it now,” Jude said.

  “Bad idea.” Hamilton ducked his head, and rain cascaded off his thick, springy hair. “She’s packing a Glock. And her guard is armed. We could get killed.”

  They followed her across the wide clearing. Rain blew in visible sheets, the drops hitting Jude’s arms like pebbles. They hiked into the foothills of the Chaillu Massif and climbed onto a rocky plateau. Tatiana’s lantern moved ahead, a bright smudge in the downpour. She pointed to a dark cleft in the rocks. “There’s a cave over there,” she yelled. “Let’s get out of the rain.”

  “Great,” Hamilton muttered. “Caves and bats go together like cats and a shit box.”

  Tatiana grabbed a handful of vines and yanked them away from the cave’s opening, then crouched down and slipped through the V-shaped boulders. The soldier nudged Jude and Hamilton through the opening, then pushed in behind them. Cool, mineral-smelling air wafted over Jude.

  No guano, he thought. Maybe no bats, either.

  Tatiana stood in a small chamber, her light flashing on the walls. They were smooth and pink, scaled with blue algae. From the darkness came the sound of rushing water.

  Jude set down his halogen and pushed back his hood. Water pattered from his shirt, ticking against the ground. Hamilton and the soldier were soaked, too. Their clothes were streaked and dripping, giving off the smell of wet cotton.

  Tatiana walked to the opening of the cave. She stared out into the rain, then glanced at her watch and sighed.

  The Congolese soldier wandered toward the back of the chamber, his light shining on an underground stream. Jude picked up his lantern and walked to the edge of the water. Translucent fish huddled on the bottom, almost blending into the rocks. They were trout-sized, with spiny fins. The Congolese man dipped his hands into the water and splashed it over his face. The fish began to stir, swimming toward the man as he reached into the water again.

  Jude set down his lantern and hunkered down. He threw a pebble into the water. It sank at an angle, pushed along by the current, then finally hit bottom. The stream was deeper than it looked, maybe fifteen feet.

  The soldier bent closer to the surface and lowered his hand. A school of fish leaped up, their mouths glistening with teeth, and bit off his fingers. He screamed, his voice rising and falling, echoing in the chamber.

  Jude grabbed the man’s shoulders and tugged. Blood jetted down into the water. More fish swam up, then leaped out of the stream, their jaws clicking. Three latched onto the soldier. He howled and began to flail, the fish dangling from his forearms, their bodies filling with color. One fish let go and snapped at Jude. He backed away. The soldier slipped out of his grasp and fell headfirst into the stream. The water churned, as if bullets were hitting the surface. More fish darted over and latched onto the man’s body, pulling him down. A red flush spilled in the current, bits of flesh moving in eddies.

  Hamilton ran over. “Jesus Christ. What the hell. Are they piranhas?”

  The man burst out of the water, screaming.

  “Help me get him,” Jude yelled. He clamped down on the soldier’s upper arm. Hamilton grabbed the back of the man’s shirt. They dragged the man onto the rocky bank. The fish yanked to get him back.

  “I got him,” Hamilton said, tugging hard. Then, suddenly the tension was gone. The Texan stumbled back, holding an upper torso. He dropped it, then spun around and vomited.

  The smell hit Jude, and his stomach twisted. He looked back at the stream. The soldier’s hips and legs sank to the bottom.

  “What’s going on?” Tatiana called.

  Hamilton wiped his mouth. “Man down,” he yelled.

  Jude watched the fish rush along the bottom, biting through the man’s trousers, ripping into the soft tissue. As they fed, their scales turned a ruddy pink.

  Tatiana walked up. “We’ll recover the equipment later,” she said. “Let’s get back to camp.”

  “Your guard is dead,” Hamilton said.

  “I’ve hired more.” She shrugged. “They’ll be here in the morning. Now get moving.”

  “No, ma’am,” Hamilton said. “I’m not leaving till I bury this man.”

  Tatiana kicked the torso into the water. Then she turned to Hamilton. “What man?”

  “Why’d you do that?” he yelled. “You’re sick.”

  She stepped closer. “What did you say?”

  “I said you’re a sick bitch.” A pulse throbbed in Hamilton’s neck. “You probably bit off your own umbilical cord.”

  Jude put one hand on Hamilton’s arm. “Let it go,” he said.

  Hamilton pulled away. “I can’t, buddy. I just can’t.”

  Her face conto
rted. “Get your fat ass out of this cave,” she yelled.

  “No,” Hamilton said.

  Tatiana pulled out a Glock and fired. Hamilton’s chin jerked up. Then he fell over backward with a thud. She turned. Jude’s throat narrowed. He knew his life was ending, and his family would never know what happened.

  I love you, Caro, he thought. Love you, Meep.

  “Get it over with,” he told Tatiana. “Go on. Shoot me.”

  “You’re not getting off that easy,” Tatiana said. “We might stay here and make a cozy home. I’ll decorate. You can feed the fish. Or we go back to camp. Which shall it be? You pick.”

  The rain stopped while Jude and Tatiana were walking back to camp. Steam rose toward the black canopy, where no living creatures moved in the branches. A tight feeling expanded in Jude’s chest, as if his lungs held too much air and he couldn’t push it out. His arms hung limply at his sides, but the veins were distended with blood.

  When they reached the camp, it was dark and deserted. The tents on the eastern side had been flattened. Jude went straight to his tent and peered out the window. A full moon hovered over the bai, where Tatiana was setting up the portable satcom, and the bright computer screen shone in her face.

  Was the satcom working now? Jude wondered. Had it ever been broken?

  Lenny paced in front of Tatiana, waving his arms. She shook her head and pointed toward the distant outline of the Chaillu Massif mountains. Lenny raised his fist in the air, his face contorted. Tatiana shoved him. He shoved her back.

  Jude looked past them. The waterfall was a few kilometers beyond the bai. If he could reach the river, he would make it out of the Birougou. He turned away from the window and squatted next to the cooler.

  Empty.

  Okay, now what? he thought, and sat on his cot. He glanced at his travel clock. Four A.M. The sun would rise in one hour. He jammed his hands under his armpits. His body shook so hard, the cot squeaked beneath him. He didn’t know what Tatiana would do to him. If he escaped, she would send the Congolese to hunt him down. But he couldn’t leave while Tatiana was in the bai.

  The low whine of a chain saw hummed in the air. Why were the Congolese felling a tree in the dark? He heard the crack of a tree, followed by an explosive whomp. Jude ran his hand over his face, brushing sweat off his forehead.

  The chain saw kept going. Another tree crashed down. Jude’s heart bumped against his ribs. He had two choices. One. He could stay, and only God knew what Tatiana had planned for him. Two. He could run now.

  He didn’t have time to reach the waterfall before daybreak. But he still had Parnell’s UV gear. He lifted his mattress and pulled out the blanket. He turned it inside out and tied it around his waist. Then he slid Caro and Vivi’s picture into his back pocket.

  Where was his sunblock? He emptied his backpack on the floor. He lifted a tube of zinc oxide and shoved it into his front pocket. Then he walked out of the tent.

  A Congolese soldier stepped in front of him. “Go back inside.”

  Behind him, Jude saw smoke rising from a bonfire. A new group of soldiers walked around the camp. They wore the beige uniforms of Malian mercenaries and carried Uzis.

  “In the tent,” the Congolese soldier said. He pointed his AK-47 at Jude’s chest.

  Jude stepped back.

  Outside, he heard Tatiana greet the soldiers in Congolese. A moment later, she entered the tent. Too late, Jude remembered that the UV blanket was tied around his waist.

  “I’m shutting the camp,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “We have all the specimens we need. Besides, half of the team is gone.”

  Or dead, Jude thought. He searched her eyes for clues, but they held the flat vacuity of a mannequin.

  “Where’s Lenny?” he asked.

  “Lenny who?” Her gaze moved from Jude’s face to his waist. She lunged toward him, her face contorting, then jammed her knee into his groin. Pain and nausea twisted inside him. Jude bent over, mouth open, pulling in quick bursts of air. Water streamed out of his eyes. Her hands moved low. He thought she was going for his cock, but she pulled off his blanket. Then she lifted the zinc oxide tube out of his pocket.

  “You won’t be needing these items any more,” she said. “Not where you are going.”

  Her boots clicked over the wooden floor. Over her shoulder she called, “I’ll have the mercs bring you to my tent. Don’t try anything stupid.”

  After she left, he pulled himself up and stumbled to Hamilton’s cot. He reached under the mattress and yanked out the UV blanket. He stuffed it down the back of his trousers. Then he rummaged through the Texan’s gear. He’d hoped to find a knife, but he saw only maps and ink pens. An aerosol can of deodorant rolled across the floor.

  Jude snatched it. If he could get close enough to the bonfire, he could toss the can into the flames. The explosion would create a distraction, giving him time to run. He shoved the can into his pocket.

  Two Malian mercenaries came into his tent and bumped their guns against the back of Jude’s head. He fell down and hit his cheek on the side of the cot. The mercs lifted his arms and dragged him out of the tent. Heat slapped against the left side of his body, and he cracked open his eyelashes. Smoke billowed over the fire pit.

  Gunfire spattered at the other end of the camp, and the Malians dumped Jude next to a tent. He lay still, his mouth pressed against the dirt, his heart plunking inside his chest.

  Don’t give up, he told himself. Just don’t. Give. Up.

  He heard the distant tat-tat of an AK-47. He lifted his head and wiped the blood off his face. Mercenaries ran down the path toward the mess pavilion, their legs cutting back and forth like scissors. They held torches, and the flames made a whooshing noise as they sped by.

  A tall mercenary soldier dragged Lenny out of a tent and raised a machete.

  “Please, I’ll pay you,” Lenny cried, blood streaming down the side of his face. “I’m rich. Name your price. Just don’t hurt me.”

  The mercenary lifted the machete, and firelight ran down the metal. The blade fell in a merciless arc.

  Jude looked away. In the distance, the tents were blazing, red sparks boiling up into the darkness. Now he understood what was really happening. Operation Daylight wasn’t just being shut down, it was being erased.

  He got to his feet, staggered to the fire, and pulled the aerosol can out of his pocket. He tossed the can into the fire and ran into the trees, racing toward a wedge of darkness, where the undergrowth was thicker. Blood ran into his eyes, and he scrubbed his palm over his face. He skidded down an embankment, his boots digging a trench through leaves.

  Run, run, run.

  He jumped over a fallen log and vaulted into the thick undergrowth, sticker vines hooking into his shirt, punching into his skin. Behind him he heard a concussive bang.

  He glanced back. Five mercenaries were spreading out in the bush, moving fast. They wore night scopes and carried Uzis. Jude figured they’d be on top of him in seconds. He couldn’t stay here. He looked to the right. The bai was empty. And the waterfall was on the other side. He needed to distract the soldiers again. He lifted a rotten log and heaved it to the right, down a slope. The log rumbled down, splitting and cracking.

  Jude rushed in the opposite direction. When he reached the bai, he dropped to his hands and knees, then crawled through the weeds.

  Go, go, go.

  Halfway across the clearing, the weeds began shaking, and noise seemed to rise from the ground. He raised his head. Antelopes raced around him. Behind them, smoke drifted from the camp, into the bai, driving out the few animals that lived in this area.

  Jude got up and sprinted into the forest. The air was starting to pale as dawn broke over the canopy, and his eyes burned. He heard the waterfalls roaring down into the narrow gorge. But to reach the falls, he had to cross a small clearing.

  As he started toward it, gunfire erupted behind him. He darted a look. The mercenaries were a hundred yards away. If he haul
ed ass, he still had time to reach the waterfalls before sunrise. He got behind a thick mahogany tree and put on the UV blanket. Then he crouched low and moved toward the clearing.

  At first, he didn’t see the gorillas. Two adult males sat in the grass, grooming themselves. Behind them, the females chomped on branches, keeping a watchful eye on the babies. The silverback raised his head and sniffed. He got up, tilting his head.

  Jude froze. He dropped to his knees and lowered his head. If he tried to run through the troop, the males would kill him. Through the corner of his eye, he saw a flurry of movement, and then the gorilla charged, swatting at everything in his path. There was a great creaking of bushes, then limbs hit the ground. The gorilla was so close, Jude smelled him. Musk and feces and urine. He expected the huge animal to jerk him up by one arm and throw him against a tree. One swipe of that paw, and Jude’s eyeballs would have rolled out of his head.

  The silverback lunged forward, grunting and calling to Jude in a territorial display. Through his eyelashes, he watched the sun climb over the trees. Mist hung in the air, sparkling in the light.

  Bullets stitched across the field. The gorillas scattered into the trees. Jude got up and ran along the top edge of the falls. His blanket flew off and skated over the grass. His skin tightened and tingled, but he kept going. He could see water pouring down into the gorge.

  When he reached the top of the falls, another gunshot cracked through the air. Something slammed painfully into his back, as if he’d been kicked. His legs went numb, and his knees collapsed. As he toppled forward, the world around him became unstuck. The sky whirled around him, and then the grass curved over his head. Another sweep of blue raced by. Everything moved in a circle. Sky, grass, sky. Then he was falling. The cold mist felt good on his face. So good.

  The river took him with a wet slap, and he went under. He tried to kick his legs, but they wouldn’t move. He held his breath as long as he could.

  Caro, he thought. I love you. I will always love you.