Amazonia

At last, Kouwe spotted sunlight ahead. The central glade! His team had been circling around from the south, keeping within the jungle cover. According to the sergeant, the Rangers were angling down from the north side.

Dakii slowed and pointed from a half crouch.

Anna and Kouwe moved up with him. Through a break in the foliage, Kouwe spotted the small log cabin in the clearing. He was able to orient himself. He followed the tribesman’s arm. The nightcap oak, their destination, lay only fifty yards ahead. But that was not what Dakii was pointing out. Beyond the giant oak, Kouwe spotted Tor-tor. The jaguar raced along the clearing’s edge. Drawn by the motion, Kouwe was able to see figures moving through the deeper shadows.

The Ranger team and Manny! They had made it back!

Dakii led them onward, speeding deftly through the glade’s fringe.

In a few minutes, the two parties reunited at the base of the tree. Sergeant Kostos clapped Kouwe on the shoulder. Anna and Manny hugged.

“Any word from Nate?” Kouwe asked.

The sergeant shook his head, then waved to the dwelling. “I’ve ordered Olin to pack up his GPS and join us.”

“Why? I thought the plan was to rendezvous at the tree.”

“This is close enough. As near as I can tell, we’re boxed in. The tree is no protection.”

Kouwe frowned but understood. The marauders were systematically destroying every dwelling. They’d be trapped up there. “What then?”

“We bug out of here. Find a way through their line as silently as possible. Once past them, we’ll seek shelter, somewhere where they can’t find us.”

Manny edged closer to them, glancing at his watch. “The sergeant set one of his napalm bombs back in the woods, timed to explode in another fifteen minutes.”

“A distraction,” Sergeant Kostos said. He hiked his pack on his shoulder. “And we have more if we need them.”

“It’s why we can’t wait for Nate,” Manny said, reading his friend’s eyes.

Kouwe gazed at the Yagga. The sound of gunfire was trickling away…as was their time. If they were going to have any chance, they would have to take it now. Kouwe reluctantly nodded, conceding.

Overhead, the vine ladder shuddered. He glanced up. Olin was climbing down, his radio pack in place.

Kostos waved his M-16. “Let’s get ready to—”

The blast rocked them all to their knees. Kouwe swung around and watched the roof of the cabin sail high into the air. Bits of debris blew outward with tremendous force. A section of log shot by overhead, a flying battering ram, slicing into the jungle and crashing into its depths. Smoke billowed outward.

That was no grenade blast.

Through the smoke, a cadre of soldiers appeared, weapons raised and ready.

Kouwe noticed two things simultaneously. First, walking in the lead was a naked woman, hand in hand with a tall gentleman dressed all in white.

But the second thing Kouwe noted was of more immediate menace, something carried by one of the soldiers. The man dropped to a knee and lifted a long black tube on his shoulder.

Kouwe had seen enough Hollywood movies to recognize the weapon.

“Rocket launcher!” Carrera screamed behind him. “Everyone down!”

10:03 A.M.

The first blast had frozen both Nate and Zane in place. Nate kept focused on his adversary’s weapon. From only a few yards away, the pistol was pointing square at his chest. He dared not move. He held his breath.

What was going on out there?

As the second blast sounded, Zane’s eyes twitched in the direction of the explosion. Nate knew he wouldn’t have another chance. He was dead unless he did something…even something stupid.

Nate lunged through the air, not toward Zane, but toward the dangling shotgun. His movement did not go unnoticed. Nate heard the sharp report of Zane’s pistol and felt something sting his upper thigh, but he didn’t stop.

His body struck the root, his arms scrambling for the shotgun. He didn’t have time to unhook the strap. From where it hung, he just blindly swung the barrel in Zane’s general direction and yanked the trigger. Recoil tore the weapon from his hand.

Nate ducked and swung around.

He saw Zane flying backward, his belly bloody, arms flung out. Zane landed in the small pond at the end of the blocked trail. He sputtered to the surface—the water was surprisingly deep, even near shore—and cried in alarm and pain.

Zane was now learning the lesson he had taught the unarmed Ban-ali shaman: a belly shot was one of the most agonizing.

Nate pushed up and unhooked his shotgun. He pointed it at the floundering man. He had not seen where the pistol had gone and was taking no chances this time.

Zane, his face a mask of torment, struggled toward the shore. Then his body suddenly jerked, his eyes widened in shock. His moaning turned to fresh screams. “Nate! Help me!”

Responding instinctively, Nate took a step forward.

Zane reached toward him, face pleading, terrified—then all around his body, the waters erupted in a fierce churning.

Nate caught several flashes of silver bodies. Piranhas. He backed away, realizing where he was: the birthing pool, the hatchery that Manny had described finding.

Zane thrashed, jerking and twitching, screeching. He began to sink into the froth. His eyes rolled with panic as he fought to keep his mouth above water. He failed. His head sank away. Only one arm remained above the pool—then even this disappeared under the roiling waters.

Nate turned from the pool and crossed down the path, feeling no pity for the man. He briefly checked the stinging burn in his thigh. He found a bullet hole in his pants and a trickle of blood. Just a graze, nothing more. He had been damned lucky.

He clenched the shotgun in his grip and marched down the trail, praying his luck would hold.

10:12 A.M.

Manny shifted under a pile of debris, shoving with his shoulders. Smoke choked him. The explosion of the rocket in the treetop still rang in his head. It hurt to move his jaw. He crawled free amid shouts and yells. All commands.

“Throw down your weapons!”

“Show us your hands!”

“Move now, or I’ll shoot you dead where you lie!”

That was incentive enough. Manny groaned and spat out blood. He glanced up into chaos. He saw Anna Fong on her knees, hands on her head. She looked all but unscathed. Professor Kouwe knelt at her side, bearing a scalp gash that dripped blood down his cheek. Dakii was also there, wearing an expression of stunned disbelief.

Turning, Manny saw Tor-tor’s spotted face peering out from under a bush. He motioned the jaguar to stay put. Near the same bush, he watched Private Carrera furtively shove her Bailey under a section of the roof thatch from one of the abodes above.