Amazonia

As she fought, a scream built like a storm in her chest. Her tent had been breached. Cries arose from other spots in the camp. They were all under assault.

They had lost.

Jessie…Kelly moaned, striking a locust from her neck. I’m sorry, baby. New stings bloomed on her calves and ankles. She futilely kicked, eyes weeping in pain and loss.

It soon became hard to breathe. She coughed, choking. Her eyes began to sting worse. A sharp smell filled her nostrils, sweet with resins, like green pine logs in a hearth. She coughed again.

What was happening?

Through her tears, she watched the dense swarm disperse as if blown by a mighty gust. Directly ahead, the camp’s bonfire grew clearer. She spotted Kouwe standing on the far side of the flames, waving a large palm frond over the fire, which had grown much smokier.

“Tok-tok powder!” Kouwe called to her. His body was covered with bleeding bites. “A headache medicine and, when burned, a powerful insect repellent.”

The locusts clinging to her netting dislodged and winged away from the odor. Kelly vaguely remembered Nate telling her how the Indians would stake their gardens with bamboo torches and burn some type of powder as an insect repellent to protect their harvest. She silently thanked the Indians of the forest for their ingenuity.

Once the locusts had dwindled to only a few stragglers, Kouwe waved to her, to all of them. “Come here!” he called. “Quickly!”

She climbed from her hammock, and after a moment’s hesitation, she slipped through her netting, now ragged and frayed. Ducking low, she crossed to the fire. Others followed in step behind her.

The smoke was choking and cloying, but the insects held back. The locusts had not dispersed. The swarm still whined and whirred overhead in a dark cloud. Occasional bombers would dive toward them and away, chased off by the fire’s smoke.

“How did you know the smoke would work?” Jorgensen asked.

“I didn’t. At least not for sure.” Kouwe panted slightly and continued to waft his palm frond as he explained. “The flaming Ban-ali symbol in the jungle…the amount of smoke and the strong scent of it. I thought it might be some sort of signal.”

“A smoke signal?” Zane asked.

“No, more of a scent signal,” Kouwe said. “Something in the smoke drew the locusts here specifically.”

Manny grunted at this idea. “Like a pheromone or something.”

“Perhaps. And once here, the little bastards were bred to lay waste to anything in the area.”

“So what you’re saying is that we were marked for death,” Anna commented. “The locusts were sent here on purpose.”

Kouwe nodded. “The same could be true with the piranha creatures. Something must have drawn them specifically to the village, maybe another scent trace, something dribbled in the water that guided them to the shabano.” He shook his head. “I don’t know for sure. But for a second time, the Ban-ali have called the jungle down upon us.”

“What are we going to do?” Zane asked. “Will the powder last till dawn?”

“No.” Kouwe glanced to the dark swarm around them.

8:05 P.M.

Nate was tired of arguing. He, Captain Waxman, and Frank were still in the midst of a debate that had been going on for the past fifteen minutes. “We have to go back and investigate,” he insisted. “At least send one person to check on the others. He can be there and back before dawn.”

Waxman sighed. “They were only locusts, Dr. Rand. They passed over us with no harm. What makes you think the others are at risk?”

Nate frowned. “I have no proof. Just my gut instinct. But I’ve lived all my life in these jungles and something was unnatural about the way those locusts were swarming.”

Frank initially had been on Nate’s side, but slowly he had warmed to the Ranger’s logic of wait-and-see. “I think we should consider Captain Waxman’s plan. First thing tomorrow morning, when the satellites are overhead, we can relay a message to the others and make sure they’re okay.”

“Besides,” Waxman added, “now that we’re down to six Rangers, I’m not about to risk a pair on this futile mission—not without some sign of real trouble.”

“I’ll go myself.” Nate balled a fist in frustration.

“I won’t allow it.” Waxman shook his head. “You’re just jumping at shadows, Dr. Rand. In the morning, you’ll see they’re okay.”

Nate’s mind spun, trying to find some way past the captain’s obstinate attitude. “Then at least let me head out with a radio. See if I can get close enough to contact someone over there. What’s the range on your personal radios?”

“Six or seven miles.”

“And we traveled roughly fifteen miles. That means I would only have to hike back eight miles to be within radio range of the others. I could be back before midnight.”

Waxman frowned.

Frank moved a step closer to Nathan. “Still…it’s not a totally foolhardy plan, Captain. In fact, it’s a reasonable compromise.”

Nate recognized the pained set to Frank’s eyes. It was his sister out there. So far the man had been balancing between fear for his sister and Waxman’s reasonable caution, trying his best to be a logical operations leader while reining in his own concern.

“I’m sure the others are okay,” Nate pressed. “But it doesn’t hurt to be a little extra wary…especially after the last couple of days.”

Frank was now nodding.

“Let me take a radio,” Nate urged.

Waxman puffed out an exasperated breath and conceded. “But you’re not going alone.”

Nate bit back a shout. Finally…

“I’ll send one of the Rangers with you. I won’t risk two of my men.”

“Good…good.” Frank seemed almost to sag with relief. He turned to Nate, a look of gratitude in his eyes.

Captain Waxman turned. “Corporal Warczak! Front and center!”

8:23 P.M.

Manny and the others stood by the fire, smoke billowing around them. The pall from the powder kept the locusts in check. All around, the swarm swirled, a black cocoon, holding them trapped. Manny’s eyes stung as he studied the flames. How long would the professor’s tok-tok powder last? Already the smoke seemed less dense.

“Here!” Kelly said behind him. She passed him a two-foot length of bamboo from the pile of tinder beside the fire, then returned to work, kneeling with Professor Kouwe. The Indian shaman was packing a final piece of bamboo with a plug of tok-tok powder.