Riley twisted out from beneath the pile of woolly monkeys, coming up on one knee, using a two-fisted grip to steady the gun. She couldn't see anything. There were dozens of gray and olive, red-brown and black monkeys between her and Annabel. The ones leaping on her mother had driven her back into the dense brush, and all Riley could see were the furry bodies in some kind of shrieking frenzy. She didn't dare shoot at them for fear of hitting Annabel.
Her mother screamed again, the sound terrified, reverberating through Riley's head. She scrambled to her feet, only to have another wave of primates slam her back to the ground. Each woolly monkey weighed close to seventeen pounds, and they dropped hard from the branches overhead, using their weight and sheer numbers to crush the humans under them.
The buzzing in her head, that awful chant, swelled in volume-in command. Han kalma, emni han ku kod alte. Tappatak
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