Blood Forest Part 17

"I hear a bee," he said. He again swatted at his ears, growing more confused when he didn't connect with anything. "It sounds like it is right by my ear."

"I don't see anything," she said.

But Temba did not relent. He crawled quickly to the tent flap, drawing the zipper shut. Then he sat back down and listened again. With the tent flap closed they were left in darkness.

"You can't hear it?" Temba asked.

She strained, searching for a noise. She heard the distant sound of running water and even faint whispering from the tent nearby.

Something brushed against her leg. Leathery skin twisted against her ankle. Startled, she yanked her foot back, tucking her legs underneath her. An angry hiss rose up in the tent.

In the darkness, a black, ropelike silhouette rose into the air between the three of them. It wavered, fully supported even as it reached a height of three feet. The serpent lunged and Sam tumbled backward over Brandon. Temba was up in a flash.

The lunge proved to be no more than a warning. The snake was back up, hissing out a threat. Its eyes locked on Sam, and it moved toward her. She could not believe the strength in the muscles that held the creature's head so high up, towering in the tall tent. It loomed over her, ready to strike.

Brandon lifted a blanket and tossed it over the snake. The heavy wool crashed down on the serpent's head, tugging the creature down. She could see the lump in the fabric where the snake pushed angrily, trying to escape.

But before it could slip out the sides, Brandon threw his weight down on the blanket, pinning the corners with his knees and hands. The snake's body whipped around underneath as it searched for a way out. The blanket was slack on the sides. It was only a matter of time before it found one of those holes.

Temba jumped down, blocking off one exit with his arm and reaching out across with the other. Sam did the same. Moments later, the serpentine head crashed against her arm, her skin protected by the blanket.

"Hit it with something!" Temba cried.

Before anyone could act, the snake turned around and with incredible speed lunged out of the opposite side. Once free it twisted back, fangs bared. All three of them leapt back trying to keep away from its angry mouth. Sam's feet twisted in the blankets, slowing her escape. She crashed down helplessly.

The snake turned on Temba. As it lunged he leapt back, cras.h.i.+ng into the side of the tent. Metal snapped, cracking loudly, and in the next instant the entire tent came down on their heads. Sam flailed her arms, drowning in a nylon sea. The snake's hissing never ended, and as she struggled to get out, the tent tugged back, yanked by the struggles of the three others.

Something struck Sam's leg. Her heart leapt.

She heard fabric ripping nearby. A hand squeezed her wrist. At first she tried pulling away. But the hand was too strong. She was yanked roughly, nearly tugging her arm from its socket, and soon she was sliding out across the muddy ground.

When she looked up, Ike stood over her, one hand wrapped around her wrist and the other hand holding a long knife. Nessa stood to Ike's right, looking bewildered. Ike looked back to the tent with cold determination.

Sam propped herself up on her elbows and watched as Ike ran back to the pile of fabric that remained of the tent. Inside Brandon and Temba flailed and the snake hissed. Ike dug the knife into one side of the pile and tore the nylon in one broad stroke. Brandon rolled out of the opening and Ike pulled him roughly to his feet.

Alfred, Raoul, and Kuntolo appeared behind Sam. Alfred struggled to put on his gla.s.ses.

Ike circled the tent, moving toward the last form. He jabbed the knife roughly into the tent and cut a third gash. Temba sprang free, crawling away with all haste. A green serpent slithered after him, gliding over the muddy ground. It lifted its head to strike Temba's backside.

But Ike proved faster. He swung the knife in a wide arc, the long blade connecting just under the serpent's chin. The hissing stopped and something popped. The cordlike torso fell heavily onto the ground, twisting about aimlessly. The serpentine head bounced away, fangs snapping a few times before life faded completely.

Brandon gasped, holding his chest. He wiped the mud from his body. Sam did the same as she climbed to her feet. She watched the ground cautiously, alert for another snake.

"The snake's dead," Ike said.

"That's not a snake," Temba protested. "Mamba."

Sam had heard stories of the black mamba, the most venomous snake in Africa. But this snake was green.

Alfred walked over cautiously to inspect. He bent over and prodded the snake's body with his hook. The serpent remained limp and headless. "Was anyone bitten?" he asked, looking up.

Sam, Brandon, and Temba all shook their heads.

The chemist breathed a sigh of relief. "Its venom kills in less than five minutes."

Sam chilled, remembering the feel of its leathery skin on her ankle. Around her, every stick and vine wanted to spring to life in the form of a green snake. The babbling of the nearby river even sounded serpentine.

"I can still hear it," Brandon said.

"Hear what?" Alfred asked.

"It's a buzzing," he replied. "It's not a bee though. I've heard it before."

Alfred shook his head, confused. "I don't hear it."

"I do," Nessa said. "I hear it. I've heard it before, too. It's not a bee. It's in your head."

"It's not in my head," Temba protested. "How could we all hear it-?"

"I don't know," Nessa answered. "But it sounds like power lines."

"Power lines?" Ike asked. "In the jungle?"

Three rapid bangs sounded heavily, causing everyone to jump. Ike crouched down reflexively, pulling his pistol out.

"What the h.e.l.l was that?" Brandon asked.

"Automatic weapon," Ike answered. "And close."

Gilles smelled the faint scent of gun smoke. The firearm warmed in his hands. His eyes scanned the shadows around him. The light had materialized from nowhere. It charged straight for him, closing rapidly, although never quite reaching him. Gilles had opened fire, a single three-round burst. He could not be sure if he hit the light, or even if it had any substance to hit, but it vanished as quickly as it came, leaving him once again alone in the darkness.

Eyes peeked out of the dark foliage and every leaf became a sinister face. They leered at him. Gilles trembled, wondering where his imagination ended and reality began. He could not remember being this frightened since he was a little boy. This wasn't the type of fear you faced in battle. Instead it was a pure, helpless terror; that fear of the inexplicable, of the unknown.

As he spun, his eyes caught a shape in the darkness. Gilles began to make out arms and legs, a torso and head. The shadow solidified into a three-dimensional form, translucent but palpable. The apparition had no distinguishable facial features and no defined musculature or clothing.

He froze, staring at the figure. With certainty, he knew it was there, but still could not wrap his mind around the idea. Surely he was seeing a ghost. Its face gave no clue as to whether it looked at him or even knew he was there. The two stood completely motionless.

Watch out.

He could not tell if the warning was his own or if the specter was trying to communicate.

"Gilles?"

Gilles.

The mercenary tore his eyes away from the shadow, turning toward the source of the voice, rifle raised. He saw only darkness, but began to hear the crunching footfalls of someone approaching.

"Gilles? Where are you?"

The voice sounded like Delani's, but Gilles couldn't be sure. In that instance his doubts felt compounded. He couldn't trust anything. Don't trust everything you see or hear. A hushed warning followed the voice, echoing through the trees. The footfalls fell silent.

Gilles held his breath, staying absolutely still. Only his finger moved, easing over the trigger of his rifle. His instincts told him he was being hunted.

Don't let them get you.

Delani crept through the branches. Ike wasn't far behind. When they had heard the gunshots, the two mercenaries quickly located each other. That was when they noticed that Gilles was no longer at his post. Although the gunshots sounded like his weapon, they couldn't be sure.

Delani called out to Gilles, but Ike hushed him. Gilles could be wounded or dead and the danger might still remain. Delani took the point and Ike circled behind and to the right.

Both men held their pistols ready, but pointed at the forest floor. They didn't want to trigger a confrontation or fire a stray shot at a friend. Delani also held a small flashlight, ready to flick it on if need be.

Delani led the way, pressing through the low hanging branches. He found his way into a small thicket and became lost in the darkness. The leaves were too thick to let through light from the sky or from the campfire behind. He raised his flashlight and flicked it on.

Gilles waited in the gloom for him, standing in the darkness, his rifle raised and pointed at Delani. The thick barrel aimed straight at the South African, ready to erupt.

Delani froze. "Gilles, lower your weapon," he ordered.

Gilles kept his weapon trained, his expression torn and confused. The whites of his eyes flashed.

"What are you doing?" Delani demanded. "Lower your weapon!"

He s.h.i.+ned the flashlight into the man's eyes. Gilles didn't flinch. Delani's pistol stayed pointed down, fearful that if he lifted it, Gilles would fire.

A tiny noise alerted Gilles, and he spun to the left. Ike stopped and crouched in the undergrowth, invisible in the darkness. Gilles began to retreat. His rifle barrel danced between Delani and Ike's positions.

He stepped slowly, nearly tripping over the undergrowth. For a brief moment his rifle faltered. Delani's gun came up and Ike exploded from the bushes. Before Gilles could fire, Ike tackled him, the pair cras.h.i.+ng to the ground, their weapons pinned off to the side.

He cried out, struggling to break free of Ike's grasp. Both men were strong and evenly matched. They rolled across the ground, vines and roots tangling around them. They stopped when Gilles' back struck a tree. He yelled in pain and weakened, giving Ike the advantage.

Delani circled the pair, ducking to avoid the barrels of their weapons, until he got close enough to grab Gilles' rifle by the barrel. In the process he dropped the flashlight and it bounced away. He angled the pistol toward the crazed mercenary's face. Then with one swift motion, he struck Gilles atop the head.

Gilles stopped his struggling. He writhed and groaned, held p.r.o.ne by Ike.

The Australian looked up to Delani. "I wonder what got into him."

Delani shook his head. Not a second later, an eerie call rose up in the distance. It sounded to him like the trumpeting of an elephant. But then, it twisted into the caw of a bird.

Ike's face scrunched in confusion. He sat up, holding Gilles down with one arm. His eyes scanned the forest in a futile attempt to see what was nearby. The darkness was too thick and the call was distant.

Delani raised his hand, taking comfort in the pistol resting there. When the bird caw ended, a leopard coughed three times, making both men start.

"You hear that, mate?" Ike asked.

"Yes, I do."

"You know what that sounded like?"

Delani nodded, still uncertain.

"It sounds like it's coming from the same place." Ike stood, taking Gilles' rifle with him. Both men forgot about their unconscious companion.

They listened to the eerie noise. Again, it trumpeted like an elephant, cawed like a bird, and coughed like a leopard, but all in the same hollow voice. As it did, the sound grew more distant as if the caller was moving away.

"That isn't an animal," Ike decided. "And it's not our imaginations."

Delani gestured to Gilles' form. "Let's get him back to the camp."

Ike nodded and stooped down to lift the fallen man by the shoulders. Together, they walked back toward the light of the fire.

The eerie noises descended over the camp. At times it mimicked the sounds of the forest animals, but at other times it broke into an eerie echoing tune. The notes drifted melodiously, filling the whole forest rather than originating in any one place.

Sam stood beside Brandon as they stared out into the darkness, their backs to the light of the fire. The three mercenaries had disappeared into the forest before the noises began. It was unnerving. At first she thought it was another crazed animal, overcome with madness and charging about the forest. To her right, Temba and Kuntolo whispered in their language.

"It seems we're not alone out here after all," Alfred pointed out.

Nessa nodded. "But who is it?"

"It is a song of the molimo," Temba said.

"What is a molimo?" Sam asked.

When Temba hesitated, Alfred said, "A molimo is a pygmy funeral ritual."

"I thought you said the BaMbuti left this region of the forest," Brandon protested.

Temba nodded. "They did."

They all turned at the sound of movement through the nearby brush. Sam was relieved to see Delani and Ike returning, but her eyes immediately fell to the third man being half-dragged by the Australian. Gilles moaned and rolled his head to the side.

"What happened?" she asked as they made their way into the firelight.

"He took a little tumble," Ike replied.

Delani turned to Alfred. "Would you check him? He was acting mad."

Sam felt a sense of dread. She remembered running through the forest, pursued by her husband.

"We'll keep a close eye on Gilles tonight," Delani said. "We will keep our watches in closer to the camp. We should keep an eye on one another."

Ike added, "We could use a little a help too. We're down a man, and it's a long night."

"Sam and I can take a watch," Brandon offered.

Temba nodded, pointing to himself and Kuntolo. "We will take a watch."

Delani nodded his approval. "Two must remain awake at all times."

The distant song broke into many voices, making everyone pause. An elephant trumpeted, a baboon barked. The forest seemed to come alive around them, stirred into motion by the strange melody.