Blood Forest Part 18

16.

The entire morning Brandon spent looking over his shoulder, but each time, his eyes revealed nothing. He resolved to ignore the paranoid feelings and accept that his instincts were haywire.

The others had more trouble. Delani and Ike kept a constant prowl along the perimeter of their procession. When one of them wasn't off to the side, creeping through the jungle, they enlisted Temba or Kuntolo to help out. The two pygmies stood at constant attention, eyes scanning the green foliage. Every so often, Brandon spotted a log or tree that looked familiar. Occasionally when he glanced to his right, he saw the black water of the river through the thick foliage.

At one point Temba fell back to walk beside Sam and Brandon. He spoke in a low tone. "Why is it so dark?"

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

Brandon glanced around the forest. Sunlight poured through, especially near the river where the canopy did not cover everything. Despite that, the natural shade of the jungle covered most of the area they walked in. But there was something else-a thick haze.

"I do not understand it," Temba tried explaining. "It's like a black cloud above us. But when I look, the cloud is not there."

"I think it's a trick of the mind," Brandon offered.

Temba shook his head, obviously not satisfied with that answer. He kept walking, not pressing further.

Up ahead the forest exploded. Feathered birds cawed angrily, rising up in a whirlwind of flapping wings as they left the forest floor, disappearing in the canopy. Kuntolo held his spear like a walking stick. He perched on a log looking down at the base of a tree.

Sam walked faster, nearly breaking into a run. Brandon moved to keep up. He recognized the tall tree with twisting bark stretching high in front of them. At the base of the tree, the ground was stained with carrion.

"Something died here," Ike called.

"It was an okapi," Brandon explained as he joined the mercenary.

"You've seen it?" he asked.

Brandon nodded, looking down at the ground. Only tiny pieces of ragged skin and bone remained. Among the torn flesh, insects twisted and crawled. The majority of the remains had been picked clean.

"The dead okapi lay right here," Brandon described. "The crazy one showed up later. He came from over there and started to chase us away from the tree."

Ike crouched, joined by Kuntolo and Temba. The three men inspected the fragments and insects as if expecting to find a clue.

"If these animals are so aggressive, why haven't we seen any?" Nessa asked.

"What about the mamba?" Sam suggested.

"It's a snake," Nessa replied. "That's completely different. Reptiles have different behavioral patterns than mammals."

"We are too large of a group," Temba answered. "The animals can hear us coming from far off and they move away. That is why when you walk through the forest you talk and sing. It keeps the animals away. They don't like to be surprised by people creeping through the jungle."

"But an okapi?" Sam pressed.

Temba chuckled as if the idea was ludicrous.

"I don't think we doubt your story here," Ike said. "We all saw and heard things last night that are forcing us to rethink some things."

Gilles stood in silence. Ever since his ordeal, he had been stripped of his weapons and his pride. He had told the story about the lights in the forest, how they sprang to life and came at him. Alfred had suggested the possibility that Gilles had seen a will o' the wisp. He reasoned that they were approaching marshy lands, the type of areas where such strange phenomena were often sighted.

Alfred's rea.s.surances hadn't helped Gilles feel less embarra.s.sed about his reactions. He admitted that he hadn't recognized Delani or Ike when he saw the two men in the forest.

"Either way, the quicker we're in and out the better," Alfred said. "We should keep moving."

"We should turn around and go back," Gilles said. His head hung low, his face dark. He gazed up at the others, his eyes wild. "This place is cursed, I know it."

Gilles stood up straighter. "If we stay here, it will not be long before we see more. Don't be surprised if you hear its voice in your head, telling you to do things. And don't trust anyone around you. You cannot know if it is truly them inside."

"Try to relax, mate," Ike said. Gilles' a.s.sault rifle hung off the Australian's back.

"How much farther to the pond?" Nessa asked Brandon.

"We'll have to camp one more time before we get there, I think," Brandon told her. "I think we're moving at about the same speed as Sam and I did."

"We need to pick up the pace," Nessa said.

At first, the party remained together. Not even Ike wanted to move alone. But as the moments pa.s.sed, they fell back into their earlier rhythm.

"None of this makes sense," Sam said as she walked beside Brandon. She kept her voice low so that no one could hear except for Temba and Kuntolo, who walked close by.

"I know it doesn't."

"The song the other night," Sam went on. "I'd think Temba would know if there were other BaMbuti in the forest, wouldn't he?"

"I guess he would."

"The man I saw in the tent wasn't a pygmy."

"Excuse me." Temba said. "Kuntolo and I have been talking and we think there is something very wrong with this forest."

Brandon bit his lip. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling sweat covering his scalp.

"We do not know about ghosts," Temba admitted. "But the animals are too noisy. They're not right. Maybe in the way that Gilles is not right. And I feel something, right at the back of my neck. It feels like there is an eyeball floating right behind me and every time I turn my head, it moves to the other side." Temba mimed the imaginary eyeball with his hands as he spoke, holding them behind his head whenever he turned.

"We want to know," Temba went on. "What would ghosts be doing in this forest? Why would they want to do these things to us?"

"Well," Sam gnawed on her lower lip. "Here's the thing. People say that ghosts are the souls of people who were not able to go to heaven. They think it's because something happened to those people when they died, or before they died, that was so horrible they were in too much pain to go on."

"Like what happened to Mbogo's people?"

Sam nodded. "Maybe, yeah."

"You think Mbogo's people are in the forest as ghosts?"

"I don't know."

"Why would they want to hurt us?" Temba shook his head. "It doesn't seem true."

Brandon wondered about the man Sam had seen in the tent. Her description didn't make sense. She said that he had melted into the floor. "That molimo song," Brandon asked. "Is it really a funeral song?"

Temba shook his head. "That's just what Alfred thinks," he explained. "Alfred doesn't know anything about BaMbuti."

"Then what is it?"

"BaMbuti belong to the forest. It is our master, and it is our protector. As long as we live in the forest it will make sure that nothing too bad will happen.

"But sometimes, like you or I, the forest will fall asleep. When it does, bad things can happen. Sometimes someone good will die, sometimes food will be scarce. All of these things can happen when the forest doesn't protect us. When we see these bad things, we sing the songs of the molimo.

"It wakes up the whole forest. Usually we'll call for the molimo for only a few nights. When something very bad happens, we will keep singing the songs until everything is right."

It was a prayer then, Brandon realized. A superst.i.tious ritual designed to end a period of particularly bad luck. If you were a wronged pygmy spirit, the ghost of a raped and cannibalized people, how long would you sing the molimo songs?

For the most part, Ike kept out of sight from the others. He shadowed their movements, keeping a close eye on the forest. He reasoned that if someone or something ambushed them, he could surprise their attackers and turn the tables.

As the darkness of night approached and the strain of the day's journey took its toll, he wandered back toward the main group. Nessa had moved to the rear, walking alone. Alfred, her usual companion, chattered with Raoul in French, lost in a conversation about palm wine. Ike moved up beside her. A glance out of the corner of her eye was his only hint that she knew he was there.

"How are you holding up?" he asked.

"Just lovely."

A few moments of awkward silence pa.s.sed, until she looked up at Ike. "How well do you know him?"

"Excuse me?"

Nessa nodded to Gilles. The sullen mercenary walked with his arms at his sides, looking more like a captive than a party member.

"I'd say I know him pretty well," he replied. "Why? You think he has a screw loose?"

"I'm just curious as to how p.r.o.ne to superst.i.tion he might be."

"Well, it's pretty common out here."

"Maybe superst.i.tion is the wrong word," she replied. "Imagination."

"Look, I'm not sure if I'm ready to go believing in ghosts or anything either, but if you're asking if I think he made it all up, I wouldn't go that far."

"Hm."

"I know what you're thinking," Ike spat accusingly. "Delani, Gilles, and me. We're just a bunch of meatheads. Or Muppets or whatever it is you like to say. We're not smart thinkers like you and Alfred. We believe in crazy things like aliens and goblins."

"I didn't say that."

"No, but you meant it," he replied. "Well, good for you and your college education. I'm glad you're here to sort it all out for us drongos."

"Don't think you know me," she protested. "Just because-"

"Just because what?" Ike asked. "Because we s.h.a.gged a few times?"

She stopped walking, glancing nervously at the others. Luckily they were too far away to hear the conversation.

"Does your fiance even know you?" Ike went on. "Poor bloke has no idea what he's getting into."

"Every time I think I know what level of stupidity you can sink to, you find another one," Nessa hissed.

She walked faster, moving ahead of him. Ike tried to follow at first, but if he pursued her further, he would end up making a scene. As the moments pa.s.sed he felt shame setting in. He ran both hands over his scalp.

"Nessa, wait," he called. He cleared his throat. "Ms. Singer."

She stopped and looked over her shoulder. She let him catch up to her. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry. I should apologize."

Nessa narrowed her eyes. "You want to apologize to me?"

He nodded, feeling every part the dumb oaf. "I've got no right to talk to you like that."

She stared at him in disbelief.

"You're right. I don't really know you all that much." Ike swallowed hard, wondering why this was so G.o.dd.a.m.ned difficult. He was acting like he'd never talked to a woman before. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to get to know you more."

Nessa seemed taken off guard. She looked away at the darkening forest. When she turned back, the coldness returned. "Be serious, Ike. You don't want to get to know me. You're just h.o.r.n.y."

Ike felt like he'd been slapped in the face. She didn't give him a chance to respond, moving up to walk beside Alfred.

The Australian adjusted the rifle on his back, feeling comfort in its weight.

"This is the tree," Sam confirmed. "You can still see where the flare hit."

"You're sure?" Alfred asked. "Baboons are highly territorial."

She nodded, circling the base of the tree. She stepped carefully between the twisted roots. They had moved away from the campsite to investigate, using only Brandon's flashlight to see in the darkness. With night around them, the noises of the forest multiplied tenfold. Every insect sang in their ears. Every animal call sounded crisp as a gunshot.

"How close are we to your plane?" the chemist asked as he examined the surrounding canopy.

"Probably a five-hour hike," Brandon offered.

"Do you think we can see the swamp from here?"

Brandon and Sam exchanged glances. Alfred had a hopeful look in his eyes. Sam shrugged.

"I wish I could get up there," Alfred said thoughtfully, following the tall trunk with his eyes.