by Dee Davis
“I’m here,” he barked, hitting the reply button. “What the hell’s so important?”
“Where’s Pelo?” came the static-filled response “And why is he not answering his radio? He missed his last check-in.”
“Sorry,” Rafe replied, “I’m afraid he’s somewhat indisposed. Nature calling and all that.”
“So who am I talking to?” the voice asked, the tone suspicious.
“Rafe Winters. At your service. Mumbaro asked me to check on the girl. And Pelo needed the break. Everything here is fine. He didn’t mention that he was due to call in. I’m sure he thought he’d be back in time. We good?”
There was a pause, and then the radio sprang to life again. “Yes. We’re fine. Just have Pelo call when he gets back.”
“Will do,” Rafe agreed, cutting off the radio and slipping it into his pocket for good measure. He should have done it in the first place, but being with Lara had a way of muddling his senses. Fortunately, no harm, no foul.
“Everything okay?” Lara whispered, poking her head back inside the door.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “We’re good to go. The guard just forgot to check in.”
“Well, he is kind of indisposed,” she said, shooting a surreptitious look in the direction of the body.
“Exactly what I told them.” He smiled, enjoying the camaraderie despite the seriousness of their situation. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”
After a quick look to verify that the area was still clear, they set out, Rafe in the lead this time. Keeping low, they headed for the relative shelter of the first tent. As he’d predicted, it was empty. Unfortunately, they weren’t as lucky with the second one. A man with a machine gun stood off to the right of the tent, smoking a cigarette.
Still huddled behind the far side of the first tent, Rafe pulled Lara down into a crouch so that they could better avoid detection while he tried to figure a way around this newest obstacle.
“I could shoot him,” Rafe said, considering his options, “but that’ll rouse half the camp. Better to catch him by surprise.” Lara nodded as he drew his knife. “You wait here. I don’t want him to suspect anything until it’s too late.”
“Be careful,” she whispered, reaching out to squeeze his hand, surprising him with just how good the contact felt—not just in a physical way, but in some place deep inside he hadn’t even known existed.
He motioned for her to stay down, then pushed to his feet, and with every nerve on high alert, he strolled toward the man with the machine gun. He didn’t recognize him, which wasn’t all that surprising. Mumbaro’s men changed with frequency, death and sometimes occasionally incarceration or desertion leading to a high degree of turnover among the faithful.
At the sight of Rafe, the man flicked aside his cigarette and lifted his gun. Rafe resisted the powerful urge to turn to make certain that Lara was out of sight and instead raised his hand in greeting. “Mumbaro sent me,” he said as he drew within earshot.
The man studied him for a moment, then partially lowered the gun. “You’re not from here.”
“No.” Rafe shook his head, his hand still extended in friendship, the knife carefully concealed in his sleeve. “I’m an Aussie. From Queensland. But I’ve been working with Mumbaro and your cause for a while.”
“Why would you care about our cause?” the man asked, his curiosity clearly roused, the gun dropping just a fraction more.
“Money.” Rafe smiled. “For me it’s always about money.”
The man considered his answer for a moment and then returned the smile, lowering the gun. “You said that Mumbaro sent you?”
“Yes,” Rafe said, still too far out of range to attack. “He wants you to relieve Pelo. Take the next watch over the woman.”
“So why didn’t he radio?” the man asked, his expression reflecting his suspicion again.
“I’ve no idea, mate. I’m just delivering a message.”
The man frowned, and then something triggered a smile. “You’re the one who seduced the woman into being recaptured. I heard them talking about it earlier.”
“Yeah, well, I have my uses.” Rafe shrugged, inching closer.
“I’d have liked to have a go at her myself,” the man said, his smile turning to a leer.
Like hell he would. Rafe stepped closer, careful to keep his movement casual, his expression friendly. The son of a bitch had just signed his death warrant. “Somehow, I don’t think Mumbaro would sanction something like that. The woman’s too important to waste on your pleasure.”
“Ah, but what he doesn’t know.” The man waggled his eyebrows, and Rafe moved in for the kill, the knife flashing as he slid it home, the man dead before he even hit the ground.
Rafe dragged the body back into the tent, and then after making certain there was no other threat, motioned for Lara. She crossed the distance between the tents at a sprint, sliding to a stop beside him when she was safely out of sight.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, brows furrowed. “You took so long. I was worried.”
“I thought maybe I could get him to leave on his own. But turns out he had a bit of an attitude. Sorry if my killing him upsets you,” he added, remembering her comment about the driver he’d knocked out earlier when they’d stolen the truck.
“Are you kidding?” she asked, blue eyes sparking with anger. “These are the people who attacked the clinic and killed Kim and the others. As far as I’m concerned, the man deserved what he got.”
“But before with the guy by the truck—” he began.
“He was just a kid,” she said, shaking her head. “The idea that Mumbaro and his men are conscripting children makes me sick to my stomach. This was different.”
“Good. Then at least we’re on the same page. But as much as I’d like to take out the entire camp, now isn’t the time. We need to get you out of here.”
“I know.” She nodded. “We’ll save the world another day. So which way do we go?” She waved toward the jungle surrounding the encampment.
“The settlement is directly west of here, but we’ll have to use the cover of the trees to circle around the camp to head that way.” Behind them the dusk erupted with the sound of men shouting. Rafe’s hand tightened on the machine gun. “Looks like time’s run out. You ready?”
She nodded and followed him as they covered the last of the open ground, gaining the relative safety of the jungle. The shouting was becoming more intense. The entire camp appeared to be mobilizing.
“They must have found Pelo,” Rafe said as they crouched behind the trunk of a large mahogany tree.
“So that means they’re looking for us.” She was chewing the side of her lip, her eyes locked on the activity in camp.
“Not the best scenario,” Rafe agreed, “but we’ve got the jungle to protect us. Still, the sooner we put some distance between us and Mumbaro’s men the better.”
*****
They’d been walking for hours, so far with only occasional signs of the men following them. Without the luxury of time, they weren’t trying to hide their tracks, simply moving as quickly as possible. Lara was drenched with sweat, vines and tree branches grabbing at her hair and clothing. The air was heavy with humidity, rain pattering against tree leaves, the dense canopy keeping the water from reaching the ground. But still, everything was wet and slippery, the jungle smelling like a huge compost pile: rich, dark, and heady.
“How much farther?” she asked, as they slowed for a moment to climb across a fallen tree trunk.
Rafe glanced down at his GPS. “Only a couple more miles.”
It might as well have been a thousand. She was hungry and exhausted, running now on pure adrenaline.
“Now that they know we’re gone,” she said, fighting for balance as he helped her across the rotting wood, “won’t they look for us at the settlement? I mean they’re bound to know it’s the closest place to go for help, right?”
“Yes. I suspect they’ll be waiting, but I’m not taking us
to the settlement.”
“But I thought—” She stopped, concentrating instead on safely maneuvering past the giant tree. Once on the other side, he dropped down to sit on a moss-covered rock.
“There’s a farm about a mile from the village,” he said, propping the machine gun against his leg. “To the southeast.”
“I know it.” She nodded, hands on her knees as she worked to slow her breathing, grateful for the rest. “Emile and I helped the woman who lives there deliver a baby. Margaret something or other.”
“Applewood,” he provided. “She and her husband came to Africa for a vacation and never left. Anyway, they’ve got a truck, and I figure we’ll take it and be on the road before Mumbaro has time to figure out what we’re up to.”
“What if they’re not there?” she asked, leaning back against the fallen tree trunk.
“They will be. It’ll be late by the time we get there. They’ll probably be sound asleep.”
She opened her mouth with another question, but he shook his head, cutting her off. “It’s a gamble, I know. But it’s better than walking into a trap. Are you okay to go on?” Clearly he was ready to be off again, and she wasn’t about to admit that she wasn’t up for it. Besides, she was actually feeling a little better, the respite, no matter how brief, doing wonders.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m fine. You lead, I’ll follow.”
The jungle was completely dark now, the canopy only allowing the occasional shaft of moonlight to penetrate. Their progress was slow, impeded by rocks and fallen trees, not to mention protruding branches and prickly vines and bushes. The rain had stopped, which somehow made the humidity only more oppressive, like a giant blanket wrapping around them—slowly sapping all of their strength.
Off to the left, she could hear the trickle of a small stream, which like them pushed improbably through the undergrowth that marked the jungle floor. There were other noises, too. Animals, snuffling and grunting as they went about their nocturnal business. Above them, she could hear the occasional calls of birds as their passing roused them from sleep.
After what seemed like hours, but was probably no more than twenty or thirty minutes, they came to a clearing, moonlight playing across the surface of a small pool flanked by a couple of ancient, gnarled mangroves. Near the trees was an abandoned hut, the roof caved in, thick-stemmed vines curling up through the opening and out the door. Tall meadow grass waved lazily in the stillness, the water in the pond looking cool and inviting after the dense heat of the jungle.
She started forward, but Rafe threw out a hand, holding her back, and Lara remembered that in Africa danger was often cloaked in beauty. The peaceful vision before her was deceptive. She drew back into the relative safety of the jungle, remembering how close she’d come to death when she’d stepped on the land mine.
“Should we go around it?” she whispered into the hovering stillness.
“It would be faster to cut straight through, but after last time, it seems prudent that we avoid direct access. Maybe if we just stick to the edge on the far side there.” He nodded toward the larger of the two trees, its upper limbs spreading out into the jungle’s canopy. “Between the jungle and the mangrove.”
Far behind them, a flock of parrots rose into the sky shrieking alarm, their cries echoing through the air.
“Looks like we’ve got company,” Rafe said, frowning at the birds circling in the sky. “Could be nothing, but I don’t think we can take a chance.”
Lara nodded, and they moved out into the clearing, staying close to the boundary with the forest, moving as quickly as possible. As they drew closer to the pond, the parrots’ calls were joined by other birds as they rose protesting into the sky. “Definitely something back there,” she whispered, tightening her hold on the Walther.
The old mangrove’s roots twisted into and out of the ground like some kind of surreal fairy-tale barrier, and Rafe shouldered the machine gun to help her maneuver her way across the jutting protuberances. They’d just reached the other side when something off to the right, by the far side of the pond, moved, bushes gyrating and leaves rattling.
Rafe’s grip on her arm tightened, and they stopped under the overarching branches of the mangrove. Rafe lifted the machine gun as the bushes parted and a somewhat bewildered-looking water buffalo emerged from the undergrowth, water dripping from its flanks. Lara released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and Rafe lowered the gun. The animal froze for a moment, its eyes glittering in the moonlight; then with a flick of its tail, it took a step toward them.
One moment, Lara was marveling at the beast’s bravery, and the next, the night was exploding with light and sound, the animal triggering a land mine, losing the same battle Lara had won less than a day earlier.
For an instant, the old mangrove was backlit by the blast, then the tree splintered like a sapling, a heavy limb directly above them shearing off, dropping from the sky. Rafe pushed her out of the way as the branch crashed to the ground, shrapnel, rocks, and mud pelting them both in its wake.
Chapter 8
The night had gone quiet again, the lack of sound almost more unnerving than the explosion. Lara squirmed out from under the fallen debris. Her arms ached, and she had new scratches across her shoulder and cheek. Blood dripped into her eye, but after a quick check, she ascertained that it came from a superficial cut.
Pushing to her feet, she called out softly for Rafe, searching among the fallen tree limbs. She remembered him shoving her out of the way before the huge tree branch had come tumbling down. The moon had moved behind a cloud, the air still full of dust. She coughed, straining to see into the darkness, trying to find him.
“Rafe?” she called again, careful to keep her voice low. Not that the insurgents would have any trouble finding them now—they might as well have left a neon arrow marking their location.
From somewhere off to the right, beneath the tangle of tree limbs, she heard a moan—Rafe. Pulling aside rocks and branches, she cleared a path, making her way toward the sound. “Rafe, can you hear me?”
Another moan.
“I’m coming.” Her heart pounded, fear coursing through her. He had to be all right. She couldn’t go through it again. She couldn’t lose someone she…
The thought brought her to a sharp standstill, her brain finishing the sentence—loved. A man she loved. The idea had been unthinkable only a few days ago, but now here, in this moment, she knew without any doubt that she did love him—absolutely and completely.
And now, because of her, he was in danger.
She jerked aside another heavy piece of wood, mindless of the bark biting into her hands. “Rafe, can you hear me?”
Again he moaned, but this time the sound was closer. She tugged another branch aside, and there he was, lying on the ground, barely moving. Dropping to her knees, she cradled his head in her lap, her heart threatening to break through her chest. “Rafe, I’m here. Are you all right?”
Like her, he was pretty beat up, his exposed skin bruised and scraped, blood staining the collar of his shirt. He groaned and opened his eyes, blinking to focus. “Where are we?”
“The jungle,” she said. “The water buffalo stepped on a mine. It split the tree, and one of the branches hit you.” She sucked in a breath as she realized the heavy branch was lodged across his torso, the bulk of it crushing against his legs. “Can you move?”
“Not my legs,” he said, gritting his teeth as he tried. “I can barely feel them.”
“Probably just as well.” She nodded, her mind moving automatically into physician mode. The tree branch had to weigh a ton. It was a miracle he hadn’t been killed on impact. The biggest risk right now was shock—that and the cesspool of microorganisms that thrived in the rain forest. “If there’s been any extensive damage, the branch’s weight will act like a supertourniquet. That, combined with shock, should keep the pain to a minimum. How about the rest of you? Any problems breathing?”
“No. And I can move my head
and right arm,” he said, demonstrating the fact as his eyes gained clarity, full consciousness regained. “But the left one’s stuck underneath something. It doesn’t feel as constricting as whatever’s on my legs, though.” He struggled to sit up, but Lara pushed him back.
“Better for you to hold still. At least until I figure out how stable you are.” She reached for his wrist to take his pulse, but he pulled it away.
“We haven’t got time for all of this. We’ve got to get out of here before Mumbaro’s men find us.”
“Well, we’re not going anywhere until I get you out from under all of this,” she said, motioning toward the tree limb.
She pushed to her feet trying to survey the possibilities. The damn thing was too big for her to move on her own. What she needed was a fulcrum of some sort, something she could use to pry the limb up so that he could pull himself out from underneath it. Panic licked at the edges of consciousness. She knew she was fighting a nearly impossible battle. The branch was huge, and she was so damn small.
But people had accomplished miraculous feats when the situation called for it. She just had to stay calm and think.
Across from where Rafe lay, she spied a smaller branch, this one almost straight. Bracing her feet, she bent to lift it, the limb surprisingly heavy. But she managed to get it upright, maneuvering it into position beneath the branch pinning Rafe.
“This might hurt,” she said, her muscles tightening in anticipation. With a sharp intake of breath, she pushed down on the smaller limb with all her might, but despite an ominous creak, nothing moved. She tried again, her muscles screaming with the effort, but there was no movement at all.
“Oh God, Rafe,” she whispered, still holding the limb. “I’m not strong enough. I can’t do it.”