Blood Forest Part 5

As they moved around it cautiously, Brandon made out the shape of its head dangling on the other side of the root. The animal's black throat was caked in blood and its round sunken eyes were open wide, giving it a terrified look. A long blue tongue hung limply out of its open maw.

"What is it?" Sam asked. "An okapi?"

The okapi was a relative of the giraffe, only smaller and lacking the long neck. In the Ituri forest they were plentiful, but didn't exist anywhere else in the world.

"I think so," he replied.

She moved closer and crouched down near its limp head. "It looks like something tore its throat open."

The body looked fresh and lacked insects. It couldn't have been there for very long. "We should keep moving," he said.

She leaned closer, tugging at the hide around the gash, examining it. "Do you think it was a baboon?"

Tiny beads of saliva mixed with the blood in the wound, signifying a bite wound. He could not imagine the small, dog-like primates reaching the throat of such a large animal and making a single clean bite. Instead, they would have surrounded the okapi as a group, nipping and clawing.

A sickening grunt ripped their attention away from the dead animal. A second okapi stood a few yards away. The creature stared at them, its wide flat ears raised, its body on alert.

Okapis were herbivores, normally docile. They were skittish animals, like deer or antelope.

But this one was not normal. Its long snout quivered, dripping thick wet globules of crimson. The blood s.h.i.+mmered and rolled over its lips before dropping to the jungle floor.

"What the h.e.l.l?" Sam said.

The creature startled a little at the sound of her voice and took a threatening step closer.

"Sam . . . when I say, I want you to run," he told her in a low tone. "Stay close to the river so I can find you."

"Don't be stupid. We're not splitting up."

"It doesn't look right."

"I am not running away from some deformed giraffe," she insisted. "Not even a rabid deformed giraffe."

"Sam."

She reached down among the tangled roots and tore free a twisted branch, holding it up in front of her like a staff.

Her movement must have startled the creature, because it darted toward them. With its shoulder reaching six feet off of the ground, the animal stood over them. Its neck was not as long as a giraffe's, but its head towered in the air, ears outstretched to make it look even taller, and it easily weighed more than a horse.

She stepped forward over the root of the tree and swung the stick at the charging okapi. The stick batted against the animal's nose ineffectively, and at the last second, she staggered back, falling against the tree. The okapi moved around her, circling, and swinging its head in her direction.

He grabbed the animal's hind leg with both hands. The okapi staggered, and Sam backpedaled out of its reach. She climbed around the tree, putting the trunk between her and it.

The hind leg kicked out suddenly, and the hoof connected solidly with Brandon's abdomen, blasting the air from his lungs and blowing him back several feet. He collapsed into the mud, gasping for breath. His insides throbbed from the blow, sending out nauseating pain.

The okapi circled the tree, chasing Sam who climbed across the roots, using her hands and feet to weave through the twisting landscape. In this way, she managed to keep ahead of the beast, as its four legs struggled between the thick roots.

She shouted at the animal, her angry cries echoing through the branches. The blood-covered okapi ended the chase and turned its anger on the tree, tearing at the bark with its teeth and beating the trunk with its snout.

She backed away from the trunk and ran over to Brandon. They watched as the okapi struck its head against the tree, sometimes so hard that it staggered and almost fell over.

"That is one very sick animal," he said. Sam helped him to his feet, and he winced in pain as he stood.

"Do you think so?" she asked. "Do you think the baboons were sick?"

He nodded, remembering their ferocity and comparing it to the okapi. He thought of Sam's behavior the night before. His vision was still blurred in the eye where she had struck him.

We could be sick, too, he thought.

"Let's go," he suggested.

Even the birds seemed angry. Their dreadful caws ripped through the landscape, surrounding Sam and Brandon. And through it all, they felt those malevolent eyes upon them. The whole forest seemed to be telling them to get out; that they didn't belong.

At times he grew paranoid, seeing shapes in the leaves and hearing voices on the wind. Twice, he thought he heard Sam right behind him, keeping pace, and then turned to find n.o.body there.

"The sun's setting," Sam pointed out, as she gazed up at the canopy.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, his words escaping in a hiss.

She looked back at him, stunned. "Nothing."

Was that even me? he wondered, feeling guilty for snapping at his wife.

She moved ahead, putting distance between them. She jogged ahead, staying close to the river. He ran, hopping over twisting roots, catching up to her. She had stopped and was staring straight ahead.

"Sam, I'm sorry," he said as he came up behind her.

"It's beautiful."

He followed her gaze to a clearing where the trees hung over a large patch of gra.s.s. Sunlight poked through, lighting the carpet in an explosion of reds, purples, and blues. The gra.s.ses and the trees were adorned with beautiful flowers and the whole forest seemed to rise up around them, creating a barrier around the garden. She walked forward, stepping lightly through the gra.s.s. The canopy provided just the right amount of cool shade so the gra.s.ses didn't grow too thick. A stream trickled nearby.

She stopped in the middle of the field and nudged a resting branch with her foot, then stooped to pick it up. It was blackened and charred. She dropped it back onto the ground and stirred a pile of objects with her toe. He saw several patches of blackened ground where it looked like leaves and branches had been set aflame. Some were burnt into coals, but in some places the green leaves had only dried and curled up from the heat.

"What is this place?" she asked him.

He gazed at the nearby undergrowth. Some of the plants appeared to push apart, forming a trail off into the jungle. "I think it's a camp," he offered. He examined the burnt piles. "These branches look like they were part of some kind of house."

"Like a hut?"

"Yeah."

"I wonder where the people went."

"Pygmies are hunter-gatherers, right? They probably use this place and then move on when the season changes or game gets scarce."

"Do they burn their huts?" she tromped off, investigating the abandoned camp further.

The clearing was large enough to accommodate dozens of the small buildings. Many of the charred patches were overgrown with thick, flowering vines, suggesting that the burning wasn't recent.

Sam stopped in a patch of mud. She kicked up wet clumps of dirt. "Brandon, come look at this."

The thick muddy patch covered a few hundred square feet at the corner of the clearing. His foot kicked against something in the dirt-something thin and small. At first, he thought it was a sharp twig of a broken root still deeply embedded in the soil, but when he looked down he saw a fleck of white. He stooped down to investigate.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

As he looked closer, he saw fleshy ligaments on bone, blackened in places. The twig was, in fact, a finger bone. "I think this is . . . a grave."

She paused, looking around in shock. "The whole thing?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, my G.o.d."

He felt cold waves across the back of his neck. How many bodies were buried under their feet? A whole family? A whole tribe? He suddenly had the urge to move, and he strode carefully, but quickly, off the upturned soil. Sam followed suit, keeping close behind him. She looked pale in the fading light. Around them, the brook still bubbled and the leaves and flowers blew gently in the breeze, suggesting a serenity that neither of them felt. She stepped up close to him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"There's a well-worn path over there," he said. "We could try taking that instead of following the river. It might lead to a village."

"Or to another grave," she finished. Then she perked up a little and added, "But I think you're right. We should take the trail."

He nodded and pulled off his pack, unzipping it and digging inside. "We should refill the water bottles first."

"I think we have enough," she interrupted.

He paused, looking at her. "Just to be safe."

"I just don't want to take water from here," she answered.

Brandon nodded, and they headed toward the trail, the canopy thickening overhead. They stepped carefully as the world grew dark once again.

6.

BaKokwa was a much smaller settlement than Michanga's village. Only a few buildings sat in the center of the village, and the plantations did not extend very far into the jungle. Instead, much of the cleared s.p.a.ce was left untended and twisting jungle vines crept in at the outskirts, choking the soil that had once borne rice.

In the rare moments when a wind blew through, it picked up dust in a billowing cloud and swept it between the bamboo huts. The place was dry, dirty, and hot. Let the jungle consume it, Ike thought bitterly.

Nessa and Alfred had managed to talk the three mercenaries into accompanying them to the hidden village-if the place even existed. They had offered a nice bonus to sweeten the deal.

When they drove into BaKokwa, Ike hadn't been able to spot a single militia soldier-not even the Mai-Mais, who in his experience were slightly reasonable. The only people on the streets were unarmed Bantu villagers, weaving through the huts on their daily business.

Unlike at the other Bantu villages, no identifiable town leader came out to greet them. Instead, the children watched them curiously and the adults walked to and fro from the huts.

Alfred got out immediately and began speaking to the closest men and women in both French and the local tongue. Ike watched as the phytochemist tried to strike up a conversation with a Bantu woman, trailed by two young girls. Although the woman seemed to understand French, she kept insisting that there was no other road out of the village besides the one they came in on, so how could there be another village? The other settlement would need trails and roads to bring the things that they needed in and out. Villages did not exist by themselves in the forest.

Ike agreed with the Bantu woman, and so he leaned back against the Jeep with his arms folded, expecting nothing to come of the conversation. Delani sat in the Jeep with Gilles.

Nessa stood quietly off to the side, alternating between watching Alfred's struggle and examining the edges of the forest around them. Ike found his eyes roaming, drifting down her back, where her ponytail hung loosely. Her s.h.i.+rt was baggy, masking her narrow waist, but her pants clung to the curve of her hips.

Ike had been in the jungle too long, he decided. He found himself hating Nessa Singer more than ever today, and yet his eyes would inevitably find their way over. The woman seemed unaware that she was beautiful. She had a reserved, shy way of conducting herself, and she never smiled. She lacked sensuality, always cold and distant.

Nessa turned suddenly, and his eyes rose up guiltily to meet hers. Ike swallowed and s.h.i.+fted against the Jeep, turning to look at the forest leaves. She had caught him looking at her-not an ideal situation. He didn't need her to know that she held any sort of power over him.

He looked back to see her still looking over, a perplexed look on her face. Her brown eyes were wide and girlish.

Aw, what the h.e.l.l? Ike thought and gave her a wide toothy grin.

Nessa's face reddened and she looked angry and embarra.s.sed, as if Ike had made fun of her. That was understandable-usually when he smiled at her, he was doing just that. She looked away, turning back to the village.

Ike wondered about her response as he continued to watch her from behind. Maybe she really is shy, he thought. And here I thought it was an act.

The Bantu woman was tiring of Alfred's questions, who would not relent no matter how much he was stonewalled. Finally, she insisted that if Alfred wanted to know about the forest so badly, he should go and talk to a pygmy. As she walked away, Alfred called after her, asking where he could find one of the pygmies. The woman huffed and pointed across the village at a hut on the outskirts. Ike could make out a few silhouettes sitting on the porch.

She added, "Good luck getting them to tell you anything."

Alfred yelled a merci after the woman and returned to the Jeep. He said, "I'm going to head across the village to go have a chat with the pygmies. Would any of you like to come with me?"

"You want protection?" Delani asked with a doubtful grin. "From the pygmies?"

Gilles let out a small laugh, and Ike cracked a grin. Alfred turned to walk away.

"Hold up," Ike called. "I'll go with ya."

They made their way through the dirt streets. As they approached the front of the hut, the three men looked up, stopping their conversation.

One of the pygmies was wearing a dirty, torn s.h.i.+rt that hung down past his waist. The other wore a high-quality but worn-out and dirty polo s.h.i.+rt. He also wore a pair of khaki shorts, making him look very well dressed for a pygmy.

The third man was Bantu, with white hair and a crooked jaw. He watched Alfred and Ike approach with suspicion.

Alfred called out a greeting, spreading his arms out wide. Ike noticed the men's eyes lock on the chemist's hook. The well-dressed pygmy spoke first. He answered Alfred's greeting and followed it up with a phrase from some Bantu dialect. Alfred responded. Alfred's ability to learn many different dialects astounded Ike, who spoke only pieces of Swahili. Unfortunately, in the Ituri Forest only a small percentage spoke that most widespread of Bantu languages.

Alfred's next question, in the Bantu language, caused the Bantu man to raise his eyebrows and mutter.

When the chemist began to elaborate, the Bantu man cut him off. He grew animated, gesturing with his hands and speaking forcefully. Alfred's queries only angered the man further.

As the conversation intensified, Ike kept his eyes on the two pygmies, who had fallen silent.

Alfred nodded to the three men and apologized for interrupting them. Then he turned away, Ike trailing closely behind. When they got out of earshot, Ike asked, "What was that all about?"

Alfred shook his head in disbelief. "He did not want to say anything."

"He didn't seem to like the questions you were asking."