Ike stood beside Delani. He spoke in a hushed voice. "Now we've got two groups in the jungle. I doubt the pygmies and the militia are working together."

"We'd be in more trouble if they were."

"True enough. But I still don't like it."

"No, not good," Delani agreed. "We'll turn around and head back right away."

"While we're here we should at least look for the flower," Nessa suggested.

"It's too dangerous," Ike reasoned. "And we can't afford to wait around here for the others either."

"What are you talking about?" Brandon asked, joining them.

The three turned to him with guilt-ridden expressions.

"Come on. You can tell me."

They hesitated, but Nessa spoke finally. "We can't stay here. It's too dangerous. The militia could be-"

Ike silenced Nessa with a raised hand. A tiny sound had reached his ears, a metallic sc.r.a.pe in the distance. Gilles held his rifle ready and stared at the forest.

Ike spun, eyes searching the green leaves.

A subtle movement caught his eye. Something thin and black peeked out between the leaves.

"Get down!"

Ike threw Nessa to the ground and spun, pistol raised. A series of cracks split across the peaceful pond. Bullets sliced through the air around them. Delani darted for the undergrowth. Brandon ran along the embankment, bullets pounding the mud behind him.

Ike fell to one knee, his body shielding Nessa. He opened fire with his Desert Eagle, placing his shots as close to the tiny barrel as he could. Explosion after explosion erupted in his hand and in the distance leaves tore apart and floated to the ground.

More muzzles flashed from within the foliage. Bullets splashed into the pond in a scattered formation.

Ike cried out as something ripped across his bicep. His blood sprayed into the air, even as the bullet continued its course. His grip on his pistol faltered, and he collapsed to his other knee.

Behind him, Nessa lay on her stomach, her hands over her head. Mud splashed up from bullet impacts and fell over her back.

"Move woman!" Ike yelled. As he did, he kicked her in the thigh.

Nessa climbed to her feet, arms still raised above her head, and ran for the jungle's edge. Ike followed after her in a full run. He gritted his teeth, ready for another impact at any moment.

Then his arms broke through the foliage, and he dove over a fallen log, landing heavily in the mud. Nessa tripped over the same log and crashed to the ground beside him. Through the trees, Ike made out Raoul cowering behind a stump. From this angle, Brandon was nowhere to be seen.

Delani's hand grabbed his shoulder. Gilles was right beside the mercenary boss. "You're hit," Delani noticed.

"Yeah, they planned a little ambush for us," Ike said.

The automatic fire continued. Bark flew up from the log and fell in shards around them. They had to fall back from the onslaught before the bullets tore through.

Between the sharp retorts of automatic fire, Ike heard a familiar popping sound.

"Oh h.e.l.l," he said. "Move!"

Delani and Gilles scattered in different directions, seeking better cover. Ike lifted Nessa to her feet and threw her over the log, where she hit the ground again. He didn't have time to leap, so he just tumbled over after her.

Fire and mud blew into the air. The concussive sound a.s.saulted Ike's eardrums and sent shudders through his bones. For several seconds after, Ike was deaf to the world around him. He tried to see up through the foliage. If only he could spot the man holding the grenade launcher and end his life. But the leaves were too thick.

"We have to move now!" Ike yelled, although he knew Nessa was as deaf as he was. He grabbed her by the shoulder and lifted her again. She held her ears, in a state of total shock.

As used to danger as Ike was, he had never faced a direct a.s.sault like this before. He pushed Nessa back over the log and deeper into the jungle. She stumbled as she still held her arms about her head. Ike stayed right behind and, to his left and right, he saw the others running deeper into the jungle also. Raoul weaved between the trees in full flight.

Militia soldiers kept right on their heels. Ike caught glimpses of them racing through the jungle, away from the pond and along the river, keeping up short bursts of fire.

Delani slowed, his .38 pointed back toward the militia, looking for a clear shot. It gave Ike and Nessa a chance to catch up.

"They've got us on the run," Ike shouted, his hearing returned. "We can't get away from them like this. They're gonna keep chasing until they wear us out and then they'll mop us up."

"I know," Delani agreed. "But we can't fight them."

"You're right. We can't. But we can slow them down. Make them hesitate and lose their momentum."

They fled along the river, the running water to their left behind a wall of foliage. The canopy blocked out the sun and the undergrowth lessened, providing less cover. Ike spotted the soldiers more frequently through the trees. Nessa was gasping for breath, stumbling on her wounded leg.

"Keep running along the river," Ike yelled. "Don't look back."

Gilles slowed to stand beside the mercenary. He held his a.s.sault rifle out at arm's length. "You are better with it then me," he said with a grin.

Ike considered then took the rifle and handed over his Desert Eagle. "Be careful with it, mate. Once you get far enough ahead, lead them across the river. That's the only way you'll lose 'em."

Gilles nodded.

Ike and Delani ran at the back, the other four ahead of them. As they wove through a copse of trees, Ike stepped to the right, breaking away from the procession. The Australian mercenary pressed his back against the trunk of a thick tree, hoping none of the soldiers saw his little detour. He hugged Gilles' rifle to his chest.

A few feet ahead, Delani did the same, but to the left. He c.o.c.ked his .38, at the ready.

The sound of the others' footsteps slowly diminished as they ran off ahead. Ike struggled to control his breathing. Every muscle tensed. Blood trickled down his arm, hot and sticky. He shared a look with Delani, who glanced out of the corner of his eye.

Meanwhile, the sounds of gunfire drew closer.

He gestured to Delani to stay where he was. Then he peeked around the trunk of the tree, watching the soldiers. When an opportunity presented itself, he slipped away from the river, putting distance between him and Delani. With them spread out, it would be harder for the militia to surround them and they wouldn't be given away by each other's gunshots.

Ike ran. Special Forces training kept his footsteps light. He hardly made a sound as he sprinted across a clearing and ducked behind a far tree. Some low-lying plants dared to curl around the roots, giving Ike an excellent hiding spot. Rather than staying behind the trunk, he crouched in the brush and peeked the tip of his rifle through.

He waited.

The soldiers walked at a fast but steady pace. They kept their rifles raised as they fanned out, attempting to surround their quarry. Ike had thought maybe they'd back off once they got away from the pond, but apparently the militia wanted them dead.

Ike spotted a particular weapon among the many rifles, this one a short thick cylinder. He noted the man who carried it, dirty, rugged, and hard.

A pistol sounded to Ike's right as Delani opened fire. A bullet struck one of the soldiers in the knee. The soldier toppled, crying in pain, and his rifle dipped.

Rifles raised and pointed in Delani's direction. The muzzles flashed and bullets sprayed through the jungle. Ike couldn't see Delani's position, but he prayed that the man was safe enough behind the tree. With their attention distracted, Ike took careful aim. He lined the barrel with his eye, searching for a target. This was not the MP5K he was used to and Kalashnikov rifles sacrificed accuracy for reliability. Ike would have to make do.

The grenade launcher lifted. The soldier set the weapon in place.

Ike scrambled for a shot, walking the barrel up the soldier's body. He fought to steady the weapon with very little time. He had to fire first and his shot had to count. He stared down the barrel at the man's head, as the man angled the launcher up for a shot.

The AK-47 kicked back against Ike's shoulder. The soldier's forehead exploded. Even from such a distance, Ike made out the red lumps as they showered down into the mud.

Soldiers turned in shock, searching for the source of the gunfire. But it had come at a wide enough angle that none had seen the muzzle flash.

Ike lined up a second shot. This time, the soldiers moved in disarray. Their heads weaved back and forth too quickly, so he picked a belly and fired. A soldier took three bullets in the gut and doubled forward. Before they had time to react, Delani opened fire again.

The line of militia soldiers halted their movement and fell back. Their weapons waved about, searching for targets in the jungle.

Good enough, Ike thought, and slipped out of his hiding place. He hoped Delani had the sense to run as well. They had a short window of opportunity to catch up to the others before the remaining soldiers surrounded them.

20.

Temba found the grave after the mercenaries left. The evidence was clear: a poisoned arrow. The BaMbuti were responsible. The wrongness of it outraged him. After his tears were spent, his eyes fell to another clue, a single b.l.o.o.d.y sandal. Normally BaMbuti were difficult to track, but at least he had something to go on. He reached the depth of the basin. His eyes scanned the ground for the place he had seen the dropped sandal. As he searched, his feet weaved between the thick flowered vines. The little plants twisted everywhere, one of the few Temba didn't recognize. The blue flowers looked beautiful, but they got in his way so he kicked them. Blue petals broke apart and drifted through the air.

A shadow moved at the base of the tree to his left. Temba turned. A small creature stood on its hind legs. Two little eyes stared at him. One paw rested on the tree trunk, allowing the creature to stand. It opened its fanged canine maw and let out a hideous bark.

The forest is mad, the baboon said.

Temba could not believe he heard it. The BaMbuti told tales of animals rising up to aid a hunter in need and sometimes those animals used voices. But Temba had never believed such fanciful tales.

The baboon yelped again, fangs bared threateningly. Temba lifted the spear and took a step forward, ready for an attack. But instead, the baboon seemed to recognize danger. The tiny primate leapt off its root perch and bounded off into the jungle. When it reached a farther tree, it looked back at Temba and barked again.

The animal meant the bark as a threat, but Temba had other ideas. He began walking slowly toward it, eyes locked. The baboon studied him, flaring its nostrils. Then, when he closed about a quarter of the distance, it turned to flee.

Temba sprinted after it. His feet slapped the ground, narrowly missing every root and rock. All the while, his attention focused forward on the fleeing primate.

The small baboon darted through every bush and around stumps, but Temba did not relent. He wouldn't let it escape.

The baboon disappeared through a patch of undergrowth, leaves swaying in its wake. Temba didn't think to slow and he crashed right through. The branches and leaves pulled at his skin until he broke through to the other side.

He stopped in the middle of an open clearing. A monstrous tree rose up from the center. The trunk stretched all the way up into the canopy, branches fanning out, cloaking the area in darkness. Temba had seen great trees like this before and, as always, it stifled plant growth so the ground remained dirty and empty.

The baboon stood on one of those giant roots. This time, it hunched on all fours and hissed. The primate had grown desperate, more insistent.

Something buzzed inside Temba's head. It worked its way into his ear and to his forehead. Temba clapped a hand to his head, searching for the insect that made the sound. But his hand found nothing and the buzzing didn't relent. Angry, he swatted his ear, wanting the noise to stop.

His eyes went up the ma.s.sive trunk and as he dug his finger into the ca.n.a.l of his ear, something flashed at him from the top of the canopy. He had to squint to be sure, but metal glinted in the sunlight above.

"What?" Temba asked the baboon.

The baboon replied with another hiss.

Temba studied the green leaves with sudden interest. He wondered what could be up there and why would there be something metal in the middle of the forest. Dark lines weaved through the trees, swaying lightly on the breeze. Like the webbing of some great spider, only in neat even rows. Temba had seen cords like those before. They were power lines, carrying electricity from one place to another.

Where there were power lines, chainsaws and roads would soon follow.

The buzzing wouldn't relent, Temba noted with disdain. Could the power lines be making that terrible noise?

A yip to his right snapped him back to attention. Two more angry yellow eyes glared at him. Temba focused on the ground again and took a reflexive step back. Baboons moved around the trunk of the tree in a swarm. Rows of canine maws hissed. Some crawled from the nearby forest. They converged around the tree and watched Temba.

The Mbuti backpedaled. He lifted his bow, an arrow nocked. The baboons advanced slowly, keeping pace with every step like a horde of angry demons.

Temba's heart pounded in his chest. He knew how strong baboons were. He would be hard-pressed to fend off two. And yet a veritable sea of primates flowed before him. Why were there so many about this single tree?

Something clawed Temba's back and he tensed, turning rigid. He nearly spun about before he realized it was only the wall of brush he'd pa.s.sed through before. Not daring to turn his back to the baboons, Temba pushed through the leaves and branches.

The wall of green closed in front of him, blotting out the angry yellow eyes.

Once through the foliage, Temba slipped away. His feet came down in the dirt without sound. He wanted to put as much distance between him and the baboons as possible, so he jogged a few yards from the line of brush. But something else had gained his interest now. He had a sneaking suspicion that certain things were somehow connected.

Instead of returning to the footprints, Temba looked up toward the sky and followed the power lines.

21.

In her dream, she lay in bed with Brandon with a soft pillow tucked neatly under one arm. When Sam awoke on the hard floor, her arms twisted over her head, she groaned in frustration. Without her watch, she didn't know how long she had been asleep, but the sun still blazed high in the sky and the afternoon rain hadn't started yet.

This is going to be the longest day of my life.

Something hissed furiously outside, startling her. An angry animal scream accompanied the rattling of wood. She heard the shouts of the BaMbuti, worried but not terrified. And then the scream turned to a low throaty growl, and Sam realized it must belong to some type of jungle cat.

How did it get so close to the village? It sounded like it was just outside the building.

After a few more moments, the sounds quieted and the BaMbuti voices calmed. She relaxed a little and once again turned to the task of getting comfortable. No matter which way she sat, with her wrists bound around the support beam every position felt awkward.

The small stew she ate earlier left her hungry. Her stomach rumbled and her mouth felt dry. She had gone longer than this without food or water, but somehow her helpless state made it worse. Not knowing when her next drink or meal would come only fed her hunger and thirst.