Nights were hell in the jungle. Right at sunset, the buzzing started. It wasn't as if the insects were silent-they were producing a constant steady drone-but Riley could push the sound away. This was something altogether different-a soft, persistent noise, a low frequency that jangled every nerve in the body. She'd awakened to the strange noise the very first night they entered the rain forest.
Strangely, Riley couldn't identify the low, irritating buzz, nor could she tell if it was outside or inside her head. She'd observed several others-including her mother-rubbing their temples as if their heads ached, and she feared that same low frequency of whispers one couldn't quite catch was invading insidiously, adding to the danger of their travel. During the day the whispers were gone, but the effects lingered.
Her senses, since entering the rain forest, seemed to have blazed to life and were working overtime. She noticed every little suspicious glance toward her mother. Jubal Sanders and Gary Jansen were armed to the teeth and she was very envious of their weapons. The two moved in silence, kept to themselves and watched everyone. She came to the conclusion that they knew a lot more about what was going on than they let on.
Don Weston and his friend Mack Shelton were a pair of idiots as far as she could see. Neither had ever made the trek into a rain forest, and clearly they were afraid of everything. They blustered, complained and bullied the porters and guides when they weren't leering at Riley or feeding the rampant distrust among the travelers.
Ben Charger seemed much more knowledgeable about the rain forest and the tribes occupying it. He'd done extensive research and had come prepared. He didn't like either Weston or Shelton, but had to work with them and clearly wasn't happy about it. He spent a lot of time talking to the guides and porters, asking questions and trying to learn from them. Riley couldn't really fault him for anything. Perhaps she was just nervous about everyone at this point.
The archaeologist and his students were very excited and seemed completely oblivious to the tension running through the camp, although she noticed they were uneasy at night, sitting close to the fire. They seemed driven, amicable and very focused on their mission. Dr. Henry Patton and his two students, Todd Dillon and Marty Shepherd, were more excited about the ruins they'd heard about than interested in whether or not a woman in their company was bringing bad luck to the travelers. They seemed young and naive, even the professor, who was in his late fifties. His entire world revolved around academia.
Riley felt a little sorry for all three archaeologists, that they were so clueless, and more grateful than ever that she'd chosen to concentrate her studies on modern languages rather than dead ones. She enjoyed traveling, talking with people and living life too much to be locked in an ivory tower, poring over dusty tomes. Of course, she'd studied ancient languages as well, but primarily as a window to the evolution of languages and their impact on various cultures.
Riley glanced toward Raul and Capa, the two porters who had shared the boat with them coming upriver. She didn't like the way they whispered and sent surreptitious glances toward Annabel's sleeping hammock. Maybe that terrible buzzing in her head was making her as paranoid as everyone else, but in any case, there was no sleeping. She didn't just have to worry about the men in her camp; the insects and bats and every other night creature seemed to stalk her mother as well.
She'd gone four nights without sleep, watching over her mother, and it was beginning to show, fraying her nerves so that she found it nearly impossible to tolerate Weston's snide, leering presence. She didn't want to add to the problems by being ugly to him, but she was definitely at that point. The fire blazed bright. Just outside the ring of fire, a jaguar coughed. He seemed to follow them, yet when the guides went out to check in the morning, they couldn't find tracks. It was impossible not to be affected by that sawing, grunting cough.
She could hear the slow fluttering of wings over Annabel's head. Vampire bats landed in the trees, brushing the leaves and filling the branches until the tree groaned, trying to support the weight of so many. Riley swallowed hard and slowly turned her head toward the leaping fire. The porters and guides stared at the tree filled with hanging bats. The creatures had gone from interesting to sinister in a matter of seconds for the fourth night in a row.
Pedro, the guide, and Raul and Capa, the two porters from her boat, moved a little into the shadows. All three gripped their machetes. The looks on their faces as the flickering flames revealed their expressions frightened her. For one heart-stopping moment, the men seemed every bit as threatening as the bats. Riley sat up slowly. She'd left her boots on, knowing she'd be protecting her mother.
Annabel slept restlessly, groaning at times. Her mother had always had acute hearing, even in her sleep. A cat walking across the floor would wake her, but since entering the rain forest, she seemed exhausted and weak. At night she twisted and turned in her hammock, sometimes weeping softly, pressing her hands to her head. Even when the bats dropped to earth and surrounded her, using their wings to propel them through the thick vegetation, Annabel never opened her eyes.
Riley had prepared her defenses carefully, using torches she could easily light, even going so far as to build a small circular fire wall around her mother's sleeping area. As she unhooked her netting, she caught sight of Raul creeping toward her. He was staying low and to the shadows, but she could make him out, sliding from one dark place to another, stalking prey. Riley glanced over at her sleeping mother. She feared Annabel was the porter's intended prey.
Heart pounding, tasting fear in her mouth, Riley slipped from her hammock and drew her knife. Going up against a machete, especially one wielded by a man who used one on a regular basis, was insane, but he was going to have to go through her to get to her mother, just as the vampire bats would have to do. And it wouldn't just be her knife, if he came at her mother. Riley picked up a torch and held it to the low fire she'd prepared earlier as a defense against the bats.
She would kill him if she had to. The idea made her sick, but she steeled herself, going through each move in her head. Practicing. Bile rose, but she was determined. No one-nothing-would harm her mother. She'd made up her mind, and nothing would stop her, not even the idea that what she was about to do might be considered premeditated murder.
Raul inched closer. Riley could smell his sweat. His scent was all "wrong" to her. She took a deep breath and let it out, easing toward her mother's hammock, putting her feet carefully in position. She could feel the ground under her, almost rising to meet each footfall. She'd never been so aware of the heartbeat of the Earth. Not a leaf rustled. No twig snapped. Her feet seemed to know exactly where to step to keep from making a sound, to keep from twisting an ankle or falling on the uneven ground.
She positioned herself in front of her mother's hammock, picking a spot she could easily move in to try to keep any attack from her. Movement close to her sent her pulse pounding. A man's shadow loomed over the hammock, thrown by the flames in the fire pit suddenly leaping toward the sky. She never would have seen him otherwise. Jubal Sanders was that quiet. She twisted fast to face him, but he'd gone past her to take up a position at the head of Annabel's hammock. Had he wanted to kill her mother, she would already be dead-he'd been that close without Riley's knowledge.
She knew, almost without the confirmation of turning her head, that Gary Jansen was at the foot of her mother's hammock. She'd spent the last four days trekking through the hardest jungle possible and she knew the way he moved-silent and easy through the rough terrain-but it still surprised her. He just seemed as if he'd be more at home in a lab coat, the absentminded professor. Clearly he was brilliant. You couldn't talk to him and not realize he was extremely intelligent, but he moved every bit as easily through the jungle as Jubal and he was equally as well armed and probably just as proficient with weapons. She was glad they had chosen to help her protect Annabel.
The terrible buzzing in her head increased so that for a moment her head felt as if it might explode. She pressed her fingers tightly against her temple. She was looking directly at Gary when the pain exploded through her skull and rattled her teeth. He gripped his head at the same moment, shaking it. His lips moved, but no sound emerged. She looked at Jubal. He, too, was feeling the head pain.
The words were foreign. Jumbled together, almost like a chant, but definitely words. She had excelled in studying ancient and dead languages as well as modern ones, but she didn't recognize even the rhythm of the words-but both Jubal and Gary clearly did. She saw the expressions on their faces, the alarm exchanged in their eyes.
Ben Charger staggered up to the other side of Annabel's hammock, pressing his hands to his ears. "Something's wrong," he hissed. "This is about her. Something evil wants her dead."
Jubal and Gary nodded their agreement. The bats overhead stirred. Riley's heart pounded hard enough that she feared the others could hear. She took a better grip on her knife and torch and waited in the darkness while Annabel moaned and writhed, as if evading something terrible chasing her, haunting her dreams.
Raul came out of the shadows, machete clutched in his hands, muttering the same phrase over and over. "Han kalma, emni han ku kod alte. Tappatak
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