The Jungle Warrior

by Andy Briggs

  Then Rokoff felt a shudder of excitement as a wild bellow resounded through the jungle. He had never heard such a creature before. Its call conveyed unquestionable dominance over the land and even the expert hunter felt his blood run cold.

  Through the scope he saw rapid movement. The poachers turned on the unseen enemy, and gunfire cracked across the jungle. One was wrenched backward into the undergrowth and Rokoff could hear his screams abruptly extinguished.

  The remaining poachers wheeled around to where their companion had vanished and automatic gunfire chewed the undergrowth apart. Rokoff watched in amazement as another poacher was hoisted into a tree by a rope that quickly tightened around his neck.

  Even the girl, still dangling in mid-air, was helping to add to the confusion. She snatched a rifle from the poacher closest to her and hit him in the face with the butt of his gun. The man collapsed. Another hunter tore the rifle from her hand. Rokoff was forced to modify his opinion of her; she had a feisty spirit.

  With his attention on Jane, Rokoff missed another two men get swallowed into the jungle. He marveled at the shrewdness of their assailant. The three remaining men gathered fearfully around Jane. One plucked the rope from her hand and another, evidently their leader, shoved his rifle barrel into her ribs and shouted in Congolese French.

  “Rends-toi ou on la tue!”

  Nothing seemed to happen and the men twitched nervously, jumping at every sound the jungle made. Tension grew as the men glanced around, wondering where the next attack would come from.

  Rokoff blinked. A knife suddenly embedded itself in the lead poacher’s forehead. He twitched and fell to the ground. The men looked at their fallen leader in horror. It was just the break their attacker was looking for.

  A muscular figure charged through the undergrowth on all fours and cannoned into the poachers. For a moment, Rokoff thought he was looking at a bald gorilla but then he adjusted the scope and focused on the deeply tanned, toned body, which was covered in a lattice of scars—some old, some quite fresh. It was certainly human.

  The wild man’s hands found the poachers’ throats and drove both men to the floor. Rokoff was no stranger to violence and regretted that his view hid the details of how the savage dealt with his victims. Judging from the expression on Jane’s face, it was brutal.

  Rokoff smiled and turned to Paulvitch, who hunkered down beside him. He too had been observing the battle, grinning as if watching a movie fight rather than a real encounter with real lives at stake.

  “The legends appear to be true, at last,” breathed Rokoff. He shook his head in wonder then turned to Paulvitch. “This puts Okeke’s prize in the shade.”

  Paulvitch looked worried. “He’s paying good money. Better in my pocket than in his.”

  “Don’t worry, my friend. We’ll fulfill his contract. My prize won’t be caught so easily, but now at least the game can begin.” He looked back down the sniper’s scope and watched as Jane was freed from the trap. Rokoff couldn’t take his eyes off the wild man. He had never seen anything like him before. “I may have just found the perfect adversary.”

  10

  “Robbie, where are the Russians?”

  Robbie looked up and was surprised to see Jane.

  Archie had told the camp not to expect to see her around today. It was raining and he had sheltered under a wooden porch on the edge of the camp, rather than in the bar with the rest of the loggers. Now Jane was standing in front of him he was suddenly aware that it looked as if he was waiting up for her. With a horrible twinge of realization, he thought maybe that was true.

  “They’re around,” he answered, trying to keep cool.

  “They’re not in the bar,” said Jane.

  “Do I look like their chaperone?” said Robbie irritably. “Maybe they’re in their cabin?”

  Jane looked over at the cabin Archie had offered the Russians. There were no lights on. Robbie followed her gaze and thought back to when he had last seen the men.

  “To be honest I haven’t seen them since . . . since I last saw you.” He pointed to the edge of the camp. “Their car is still here so they must be around.” He noticed that some of the equipment was missing from the roof. He stood up and walked to the end of the porch. Jane followed him. She had spotted the missing gear too. “They must have gone somewhere," Robbie said.

  “There were poachers not too far from here.”

  “Out here? Did you see them?” Jane didn’t meet his gaze, a sign that told him something bad had happened. Then he noticed the fresh cut close to her ear. “Are you OK?”

  “I got caught in one of their traps. I think they were going to kill me.”

  “But Tarzan . . . ?” He didn’t even need to finish his sentence. Jane just nodded. “Then they’re not a problem any more, are they?”

  “I told Tarzan that Rokoff had come here and was asking about gorillas. With the sudden arrival of these poachers . . . he’s suspicious. And I don’t blame him.” She stared at the Land Cruiser thoughtfully. “We should look inside. It might give us a clue to their whereabouts.”

  They walked over to the vehicle. The rain was now a gentle drizzle, but it seeped easily through their clothes, making them shiver. The vehicle was locked.

  “Well, it was a good idea,” said Robbie. “Now let’s go and get dry.”

  “Can you force it open?”

  Robbie gave her a measured look. “Back in New York, I was a mechanic, not a car thief. Don’t get the two mixed up.”

  But Jane didn’t need Robbie’s help. She picked up a rock and went to hurl it through the driver’s window. Robbie clamped his hand around her wrist.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “I want to look inside!”

  “You can’t just smash your way in. This doesn’t belong to you.”

  “Then what do you suggest?”

  Robbie sighed. Jane was forcing him to do something he didn’t want to do—yet again.

  “Give me a second.”

  He ran to the camp’s bulldozer. He had been servicing the engine earlier in the day and had put a metal toolbox underneath to keep it out of the rain. He returned with a pair of long-nosed pliers and a length of strong wire. He inserted the pliers at the top of the door and used his weight to open them, wrestling the two handles in both hands. There was a crack of stressed metal—then the top of the door frame inched open. Robbie fashioned the end of the wire into a hook and slid it through the gap. The wire was just long enough to reach the door lock. It took several attempts, but he finally snagged the door lock-release bolt with the hook and pulled. The door opened.

  “See? Better than brute force.” He carefully bent the top of the door back into shape. The paint was cracked, but it would fool a casual observer.

  They climbed inside the vehicle, thankful to be out of the rain. There were more equipment boxes in the back, matte black impact cases, which usually held delicate instruments.

  “So what do you expect to find?” said Robbie. “Some dead animals?”

  Jane opened the nearest small case. It was empty. The packing foam inside was sculpted to hold something about the size of her satellite phone. Another, larger box was similarly empty. Jane climbed over the seats so she could get amongst the long narrow boxes. Robbie stayed in the front keeping watch. Now they were both in the car, he realized he had a captive audience.

  “Jane, I really need to speak to you.”

  “About what?”

  “About my stepdad.” Robbie was thankful that Jane suddenly stopped and looked at him with concern. “He’s looking for me.”

  Jane gave him a little smile. “That’s hardly surprising. You did try to kill him.”

  Robbie hung his head—he wasn’t proud of his actions.

  “But look around you. He’s not going to find you here. The world’s big. Lots of places to hide.” She continued opening cases, assuming her consolatory words were effective.

  “I’ve done a little digging around,” said Robbie as she
opened another case.

  “Really?” Jane was only half listening. “Looks like they’ve taken everything.”

  “The police know I fled the country. They know I stowed away on board a cargo ship in New Jersey.”

  Jane looked at him in surprise. “How?”

  “They tracked my movements on CCTV. It took them a while. But they know I’m in Africa.”

  Shocked, Jane now turned her full attention on Robbie. “Are you sure?”

  “They’ve posted a ‘wanted’ picture. But it gets worse. My stepfather has been giving news interviews about me. I saw one on YouTube . . .”

  He trailed away. Jane encouraged him to continue, then noticed that he was looking at the box in her hands.

  Inside was a large hand-held device, about the size of their phones. Robbie realized that another similar device must have been in the first empty box. The letters GPS were emblazoned on it. But that wasn’t all. Jane must have accidentally brushed the “on” switch when she had opened the case. A blip flashed in the center of the screen.

  “Let me see that,” said Robbie taking it from her hands.

  “It’s just a GPS.” Jane had seen many since her father had set up the camp. “Nothing special about that.”

  “This is a very expensive piece of gear. Military grade.” Robbie had searched through equipment catalogues with Archie when they moved camps and had seen the price of high-end equipment. It was way beyond their budget. “Which means it’s extremely accurate.”

  Jane shrugged. She didn’t know why he was getting so excited. She tapped the blip on the screen. Latitude and longitude numbers were highlighted above it. “What’s this?”

  “Our current location.”

  Robbie opened the car door and stepped out, ignoring the rain, which had gathered pace again, and stared at the screen. He reached the bulldozer and looked back at the jeep. The blip had moved. As he slowly turned around he lined up the GPS with the Land Cruiser. Then he ran back to the vehicle.

  “Give me your jacket,” he demanded.

  Jane looked at him as if he was demented. “What?” “Take your jacket off!” Jane reluctantly did so. She was only wearing a T-shirt underneath, but the rain had soaked through to her skin anyway. Robbie began searching her pockets.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Didn’t you ever watch any films?”

  “No. I have friends and a life,” Jane answered, sarcastically. “Or had,” she corrected herself.

  The pockets were empty. Robbie was just starting to think he was being paranoid—then his fingers found something under the collar. He unfolded it, revealing a small metal disk pinned there. He took it off and showed Jane.

  “What is it?” she asked, confused.

  “A GPS transmitter. The kind of tag you use to track animals. Watch.” He gestured toward the screen and threw the disk away from the vehicle. The blip on screen moved as the disk landed in the mud. “Rokoff is tracking you.”

  “But why would . . . ?” She knew why. Luckily she had only been to the Dum-Dum and back.

  In the moment’s silence, the rain turned once more into a downpour and beat against the metal roof. Robbie’s stomach churned as he thought about his part in the betrayal. He didn’t believe for a second that a pair of conservationists would stoop so low. Jane turned to the longer cases. She flipped the nearest one open. It was empty, but the sculpted foam inlay clearly revealed the definition of a rifle.

  “No!” gasped Jane. Then, without warning, she bolted from the vehicle and ran across the camp.

  Robbie raced after her. He slipped several times in the mud but caught his balance. Jane found her footing with ease and gained distance.

  “Jane! Stop!”

  She wasn’t listening. Impenetrable dark jungle loomed at the edge of the camp and Robbie quickened his pace. Jane finally tripped on a stump in the darkness and fell into the mud. Robbie reached her side and helped her up, clutching her arm as tightly as possible to stop her from fleeing.

  “There’s nothing we can do right now!” Robbie shouted over the driving rain. Jane tried to pull away from him. He could see the anxiety across her wet face and was unsure if she was crying. She struggled a little more.

  “The Dum-Dum!” she shouted. Robbie looked at her blankly. Jane shoved him in the chest, pushing him backward. “Get a flashlight! We have to try!”

  Robbie wanted to argue. Running into the jungle at night was a reckless thing to do—but the expression on Jane’s face reflected the guilt he was feeling for bringing Rokoff to the camp. He knew it was his fault—but he had no idea just how bad things were about to get.

  •••

  In the mountains, the deluge of rain sounded like a herd of animals migrating through the jungle. Tarzan watched as little Karnath sat at the entrance of the aircraft fuselage, peering out and snatching at the heavy raindrops, trying to eat them. Tarzan chuckled and settled back on the folded branches that formed the nest he had created for the night. Unlike the gorillas, Tarzan preferred to sleep on the ground whenever he could, and favored the seclusion of his artificial cave even more. A few of the gorillas shared the cave and it was turning into a peaceful night as the regular patter of the rain lulled them all to sleep.

  Tarzan’s eyes suddenly flicked open. His keen hearing picked up something no ordinary man’s could. He crept to the cave entrance and crouched beside Karnath. He strained to listen—then heard it again. It was a faint grunt from Kerchak. Something was bothering the old silverback.

  Tarzan ruffled the soft, greasy fur on Karnath’s head then walked outside. The rain masked Kerchak’s grumbling, but Tarzan tracked the old silverback to a large rock where he sat under the bows of a great tree to shelter from the storm. The silverback cast a glance at him and snorted, then gazed back into the darkness. Despite their clashes, they held a begrudging respect for one another.

  Tarzan climbed next to Kerchak and listened for what was bothering the old ape. This close, Tarzan could smell wild garlic on the silverback’s raspy breath as they peered into the darkness. The wind blew the rain against them, dampening any telltale scent or sound of what was agitating them.

  •••

  Through the night-vision goggles, the vivid red and orange thermal signatures of the apes stood out in sharp relief from the cool blue-green background of the jungle.

  Nikolas Rokoff lay downwind. His body was so tense that the only movement was the beating of his heart. He had been watching the gorillas since he’d crawled through the mud into position an hour ago.

  He was delighted his plan had worked so flawlessly. His original intention of hanging around Sango to grill the locals for information on the mountain gorillas hadn’t been necessary as luck had led him straight to the Canler boy browsing the Internet, looking up details about the Greystokes. Once Canler had left the computer, without taking the precaution to delete his browsing history, it had been a simple task for Rokoff to review the web pages. Gathering intelligence was critical to a successful mission and he suspected there might be something helpful in the boy’s research.

  He carefully read through the information relating to the Greystokes, and skipped the stories about a murderer on the loose in America. Why was Canler so interested in this? He made a mental note of that in case it should prove useful at a later date. Then he found the relevant pages, about the legendary White Ape said to haunt the jungles of the Congo.

  This was the very reason Rokoff was here. Once he had chased such rumors and left empty-handed. The story still plagued him as if the wild foe was taunting him, determined to be the one creature he would never be able to hunt. Finding Canler in Sango had been a stroke of luck and his hunter’s sense told him he was on the right track. From that point, it had been simple enough to talk loudly about the apes and ensure his path crossed with Clark and Robbie at the nearest bar so he could ingratiate himself with them.

  While pulling together the logistics for his mission, Rokoff had arranged rapid transportati
on from the jungle, which was always difficult in a backward country. He paid the local poachers to comb the area for any signs of the gorillas. Their instructions were simple: If they encountered any they were to keep them alive and tag them with the small GPS trackers he had provided. Had he not watched the poachers’ encounter with the wild man firsthand, he would never have believed it. Obviously the poachers had thought no man or beast could resist the might of a heavily armed gang—a mistake they had paid for with their lives. But still, they did successfully plant a GPS tracker on the wild man before he mercilessly slew them.

  Following the White Ape was proving more difficult than anticipated. He couldn’t believe any creature could pass through the dense forest at such speed. He had been forced to push ahead of Paulvitch just so he could make it to the plateau before nightfall. Now here he was, lying flat in thick mud.

  Patience was the single virtue Rokoff possessed. It was the key quality for any hunter. He’d counted thirteen targets. Tarzan’s distinctive thermal pattern made him stand out from the gorillas. The wild man crouched next to the large silverback. Both of them tilted their heads trying to pick up the faintest hint of what lay in the darkness. Rokoff was certain he hadn’t made a sound, but still something had alerted them.

  With a single slow deliberate movement, Rokoff switched his night-vision goggles from thermal imaging to infrared. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the glowing grey-green wash of the plateau. Even though the storm clouds blotted out the moon, the goggles amplified enough ambient light to reproduce the lighting levels of a full moon. The monochrome color palette occasionally made his targets blend into the background, but when they moved it provided the perfect tool for night combat.

  The wild man’s head suddenly turned in his direction. Rokoff saw the pale eyes peer at him, luminous like a cat’s in the night vision. Rokoff’s finger froze on the button he had just pressed. Surely the apeman couldn’t have heard the sound? The equipment was designed to be virtually silent and Rokoff himself hadn’t heard anything. Yet the wild man half turned toward him, his head bobbed as if trying to detect a subtle odor. Rokoff knew he was well concealed, but he experienced a sudden doubt. Could the wild man see him in the darkness? Had life in the jungle sharpened his senses to an extraordinary, almost superhuman, level?