They jumped into the jeep and drove to the clearing.
# # #
Carson looked at the somber faces in front of him. "There's something wrong, isn't there?"
Brendan sighed. "Yeah, probably. Wishful thinking won't cut it anymore. Idrissa isn't that far away from here. Even if Vivian had scolded the kid until his ears were red, even if the villagers had kept them for a while, they should've been back by now."
"Maybe they wanted Jack and the others to stay for a meal? To thank them for returning the kid?" Carson suggested, grasping at straws.
Jarod shook his head. "It's unlikely. They barely have enough food for themselves. The tribes very rarely invite outsiders to eat with them, no matter how thankful they were. The survival of the tribe takes precedent over all else, even hospitality. Besides, Jack would say no."
"So, what are we going to do?"
"We aren't going to do anything," Brendan said sternly. "If they aren't back by midnight, we're going to search for them at first light. But you're staying here."
Carson looked him directly in the eyes, wanting to get his point across. "I'm going with you."
"Carson--" Brendan began, but Jarod patted his arm lightly.
"Let it go, Brendan. Carson can take care of himself and we might need him."
"Jarod, he took quite a beating from Collins. He's in rough shape as it is. And now he wants to go marching into the jungle to face God knows what? He'll just slow us down."
Carson slammed his hand down on the table, annoyed at being dismissed like that. "Hey! He is right here. And I can hold my own, thank you very much. I did knock Collins unconscious. I'm going and that's final."
Brendan rolled his eyes, but didn't seem truly upset. "Great. Just what I needed, another fool to patch up."
Carson chuckled at the doctor's obvious exasperation. "You already did, remember? I'm guessing that happens a lot?"
Brendan gave him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding? With this bunch? I should drive an ambulance!"
They all laughed at that, but Carson knew their hearts weren't really in it. He also knew none of them would leave the Jungle Tavern tonight, in hopes the others would make it back somehow and meet them there.
# # #
Jack brought their vehicle to a halt at the clearing, frowning as he spotted an abandoned Land Rover amongst some trees. He squinted around at the darkness that surrounded them, trying to locate its driver or passengers, but there was no sign of anyone.
"More slavers?" Roger asked from the back seat.
"No. If it were slavers, they would've joined the fight earlier. It's close enough for them to have heard shots being fired," Vivian said. "Could be explorers, tourists, scientists... The question is where are they? It's not very smart to leave their vehicle abandoned like this and go strolling into the jungle. Especially after dark."
Jack leapt out of their jeep. "Rog, set up camp. Vivian, come with me; let's search it. Keep your eyes open. Whoever they are, they might not like us being here."
The search revealed two small suitcases, a backpack filled with food and several bottles of water, as well as a map of Jawara, its main roads penned in red. Sitting by a fire they studied the contents of the pack carefully, trying to determine what had happened to its owner.
"There's enough supplies in here for two, three people." Roger took a closer look at the map. "The best roads are highlighted, so are the main tourist attractions in town. I'd say tourists, probably a family." He opened a thick envelope, his expression darkening as he saw what was inside. "Shit."
Vivian raised her eyes from the map. "What?"
"Photos, taken in Njau," Roger said, handing them over to Jack. "There's a couple and a teenager posing in most of them. The kid can't be more than fifteen."
Jack scrubbed a hand roughly over his face. "Stupid fools. Probably stopped here to eat and something happened."
Vivian opened the two suitcases. "They're filled with clothes. Mom's, Dad's and Junior's."
She picked up a bra, a pair of boxers, and finally a black t-shirt with Metallica printed on the front. Lady Justice also was depicted, her eyes covered, carrying a sword in one hand and the scales of justice in the other. ...And Justice For All was printed in red and Jack couldn't help but think that there might not be any justice for this family.
Roger cleared his throat. "Any unfriendly tribes around here?" he asked Vivian.
Vivian's expression tightened. "Not in the immediate area, but there're a couple not that far. If this family was surprised by a sentry or if they wandered off and met any of the tribe... The sentry would've alerted the village and attacked. You know these tribes don't take to strangers, especially white men. They usually stay clear of armed groups, unless provoked or if they feel the settlement's threatened. But a single family out here, alone... Easy pickings. Let me look around, see if I can find any tracks."
Jack watched as Vivian carefully examined the soil around the apparently abandoned vehicle, going this way and that, paying close attention to some of the vegetation, before she returned to them.
"Well?" Jack prompted.
"It's too dark to get a good look, but there are definite signs of a struggle, marks of both bare feet and shoes on the earth and broken branches. I'd say whoever owns the Rover was taken, all right."
Jack exhaled softly. "Damn. I guess we should check it out, take advantage of the new moon."
"Are we actually going to do this?" Vivian asked, brows furrowed gravelly. "Chasing after a bunch of tourists in the dark of night is beyond stupid. With the threat of warrior tribes in the area, it's suicidal."
"There's a kid, Viv," Roger said quietly.
She sighed. "Yeah, I get it. I must've been out of my mind when I agreed to join you idiots. Life was so much easier when I didn't have to worry about a guilty conscience. Let's do it, then."
"Get ready to go," Jack ordered briskly. "Pack light, check your ammo and weapons. And keep alert; I don't fancy getting caught with my pants down by an overzealous warrior."
Roger chuckled. "Don't worry, ol' dog. I think Carson's the only one interested in seeing you with your pants down," he whispered.
Jack snorted, amused in spite of himself. "Shut up, Roger."
Vivian's expression was ominous. "You do realize, if these people were caught by one of these tribes, they're probably dead by now?"
There was nothing Jack could say to that. Tourists died in Jawara every day because they ventured into the jungle without a guide to help them stay clear of the more dangerous tribes. But he still had to try to find out what had happened. He wouldn't be able to live with himself otherwise.
# # #
"It's midnight," Jarod said unnecessarily. "Why don't you go back to your hotel, Carson? Get a few hours sleep, something to eat. The sandwich we ate at dinner won't keep us for long. I promise we'll pick you up before we go."
"I'm not going anywhere," Carson said, jaw clenching stubbornly. "I'm staying with you."
He didn't understand exactly what was keeping him here, wanting to be with Jack's friends. Maybe his presence offered them some measure of comfort, or at least a distraction. He didn't understand why he needed to help rescue Jack, Roger and Vivian. He had met these people less than two days ago and was considering risking his life for them. All he knew was that he was determined to go through with it. His grimy appearance and his aching body would keep. At least until MacKenzie's team was back together again.
# # #
Vivian stopped abruptly and held up a hand in warning.
"What?" Jack whispered.
"Thought I heard something," Vivian answered in the same tone.
They stood frozen, barely daring to breathe, eyes scanning the darkness covering them, but seeing nothing. It was madness wandering around in the wilderness. Without sufficient light, they incurred a serious risk of injury, but it was the only way of discovering what had happened to the missing tourists.
The leaves around them parted suddenly and nati
ves broke out of the woods from all directions, their war cries piercing the silence. Jack fired his weapon over and over again, taking no pleasure in the killing, even though the tribesmen had been the ones to attack. Several warriors fell under his lead, but before Jack could blink others took their place. Soon he was out of bullets and engaging the fighters with his fists, trying to punch his way to freedom, feeling, more than seeing, Vivian and Roger doing the same.
It was an unfair encounter from the start. Outnumbered and overpowered, they were quickly subdued. Their wrists were bound behind their backs and they were dragged through the jungle at a brisk pace, branches hitting and scratching at them painfully as they stumbled on the uneven ground.
When they finally stopped, Jack focused all his attention on catching his breath, and easing the ache in his sore legs. He still fought fiercely as he was taken to what appeared to be the middle of a village. There was a row of wooden pillars there. He was tied to one of them, Roger and Vivian bound to the ones on his right. Tied to the pillar on his left was a redhaired man, his slumped posture indicating he was unconscious.
"It looks like the man in the photos," Roger whispered grimly. "Where're the wife and kid? Maybe they're being kept in one of those huts?" He was grasping at straws and they all knew it.
Jack looked down at what appeared to be dried blood on the soil by his feet, seeing a similar stain under Roger's boots. "I don't think so, Roger," he said, voice made rough with regret. "We're just too late."
He remembered the happy woman in the photos, her wide smile as she embraced her husband and son, and the goofy kid making funny faces for the camera, and his heart plummeted. Sometimes life really was a bitch.
He glanced around, seeing the fires burning bright throughout the village for the first time, the small wooden huts, the armed men guarding them warily. Very few women or children could be seen, but considering it was nighttime, they were most likely in the huts.
He swallowed as he noticed more tribesmen emerge out of the jungle, reverently carrying their dead and taking them into several of the small wooden houses; probably to be prepared for burial.
"Who are you?"
Jack started at the hoarse whisper, looking to the man on his left. He was awake, although obviously weak. There were tear tracks on his dirty face, and even in the darkness Jack could see the sorrow and anguish in his eyes.
"I'm Jack MacKenzie. We found a Land Rover in a clearing near here. We were looking for the owner when we were captured."
The man swallowed with difficulty. "David Novotny," he rasped softly. "The Rover's mine. My wife, my son... T-these bastards killed them," he stammered with a convulsive shudder. "Tortured them for hours. I thought... I thought they would never... stop..." His head slumped forward and Jack realized Novotny had fallen unconscious again.
"Poor man," Roger said, having heard the brief conversation. "Why haven't they killed him yet? Or us?"
Jack glared at him. "I don't know, but don't you give them any ideas, Rog."
"I overheard two of the warriors that caught us talking about having a council in the morning to decide what to do with us," Vivian said.
"And Novotny?"
Vivian grimaced. "If they killed his wife and son, they'll kill him too. It's just a matter of time."
"How did they spot us?" Jack wondered. "We were a good ten minutes away from the village."
"Sentries, probably," Vivian said. "These warrior tribes plant them all around their villages, sometimes patrolling for miles. One of them must've seen us."
Jack sighed, leaning against the pillar to give his body some rest. "Well, I guess there's nothing we can do now but wait."
"And pray," Roger mumbled beside him, closing his eyes tiredly.
# # #
They left Jawara City as soon as the sky began to show the first signs of the coming dawn. Jackie was once again behind the wheel, Jarod in the passenger seat. Carson and Brendan shared the back seat, all four of them looking equally grim, but determined.
They drove on one of Jawaran's many dirt roads, stopping often to ask in every village if anyone had seen their three companions. They had been searching for a little over an hour, when they came upon another small tribe. Like all the villages Carson had seen that morning, it consisted of a smattering of badly-built shacks around a muddy clearing. The signs of poverty were not only the frail construction of the wooden structures, but also the worn clothing and unnatural thinness of its dwellers. The difference here were the two trucks stacked with bodies parked in the middle of the settlement.
"That can't be good," Brendan commented quietly.
Refraining from replying, but nonetheless agreeing with the statement, Carson wondered if they shouldn't drive away and quickly. All the dead men were Caucasian; maybe this was one of the unfriendly tribes Jarod said lived in this area. However, before he could say anything to the others, a woman approached them.
"Welcome to Kelile, strangers," she said with a curt bow. "My name is Omphale."
Carson was instantly suspicious of her. The words might be affable, but there was a wariness in her tone and eyes that belied the sentiment they expressed. Her body and posture projected tension, as if she were expecting an attack. This idea was aided by the group of men he could see watching them, all of them carrying guns and batons.
Apparently deciding to overlook the possible threat, Jarod smiled faintly. "Thank you. We're terribly sorry for bothering you, but we're searching for some friends. Perhaps you've seen them? One of them is a blond man, going by the name of Jack MacKenzie. He was traveling with another man, Roger Miles, and a woman, Vivian Anderson. They might've driven through here some time yesterday afternoon."
Omphale narrowed her eyes at them. "Maybe I have seen them, maybe not. In any case, how can I know if you are truly their friends?"
"We've got nothing to give you but our word on it," Jarod said honestly. "We're worried about them. They were supposed to return a runaway child to the Idrissa tribe yesterday and they never came back."
Her shrewd gaze swept carefully over each one of them and Carson didn't look away, knowing she was trying to see the truth. Whatever she might have glimpsed seemed to reassure her as, after a long moment, she relaxed minutely.
Omphale nodded slowly. "Yes, I believe you are telling the truth, strangers. I saw your friends last night. We owe them our freedom, as they saved us from those slavers." She indicated the trucks.
That explained the trucks and the dead lying in them. It also set Carson's mind at ease as it explained the villagers' wariness. After escaping a raid from mercenaries, they would undoubtedly be more cautious of foreigners in the future.
"Were they okay? And can you tell me which direction they took?" Jackie held out a map.
Omphale shook her head. "Those things mean nothing to me," she said, looking at the map. "And they were unharmed, yes. The last I saw of your friends, they were heading for Tinochika country. It was late when they left here, maybe they meant to camp somewhere. Follow that road and perhaps you will find them."
Brendan gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you, Omphale. We can't thank you enough for your help. If you ever need anything, send someone to search for us in Jawara City. Go to the Jungle Tavern. The owner, Kit Mason, will send word to us."
She tilted her head curiously. "You and your friends are a very unusual group of people," she said. "I had heard of a group of guardians, protecting the tribal people. I thought the rumors to be false, but perhaps you are they?" She shook her head. "No matter. Thank you for the offer, I will not forget it. I hope you find your friends."
"So do I," Jackie said as she revved the engine. "So do I."
# # #
Jack watched blankly as the village slowly came to life. Some of the men disappeared into the jungle, no doubt to search for food, while the women washed clothing in clay basins or cooked for the elders and the children. Most of the young ones were playing, though, chasing each other, or watching the bound men with unabashed
curiosity.
He paid them no mind, closing his eyes and doing his best to ignore the now constant ache in his body, the burn in his wrists, the uneasiness in his heart. Not wanting to dwell on his fate, Jack turned his mind to better thought--Carson.
This early in the morning Carson was probably still sleeping. Nude body sprawled invitingly across the bed in his hotel room, disheveled auburn hair, green eyes drowsy and warm. It was a sight Jack wasn't sure he would get to see. Not because of his resolution not to make a move on Carson, but because Jack wasn't expecting to live to see another day.
He could have sent one of the others to escort the kid back to the Idrissa tribe. But it was him the kid mugged, him the kid seemed to respond to. Jack had known it was the right thing to do. And despite everything, he wouldn't want any of his friends to be here, in his place, waiting to hear his death sentence. It was depressing to think of dying at the hands of one of the tribes he and the others were trying to save. It gave new meaning to biting the hand that feeds you.
"Jack."
Vivian's voice, soft but strained, had him opening his eyes. The men and the tribal elders were now gathered together by one of the larger huts. One of them was talking excitedly, gesturing wildly, and pointing at the prisoners.
"Viv, can you hear what they're saying?" he asked.
"They're arguing over what to do with us. The younger warriors want to kill us. One of the elders recognized us, has seen us with some of the other tribes, and knows we live with the Durak. He's afraid that if they kill us, one of the tribes we've helped might come and burn down their village in retaliation."
"Who's winning?" Roger asked.
"The warriors," Vivian replied grimly.
"Great," Jack muttered, his head sagging back against the pillar in frustration.
# # #
Chapter Five
Following Omphale's directions and driving due north, it didn't take them long to find the clearing and the two abandoned vehicles. Carson's heart skipped a beat as he immediately recognized Jack's Wrangler.
"You recognize the Land Rover?" he asked the others.
The Ripple Effect Page 5