Coiled Snake (The Windstorm Series Book 2) (26 page)

It’s only when I look up that I realize all the others have formed a defensive circle and are pointing their weapons into the trees and across the sunken lake behind us. As Kai gives me a withering glare, I suddenly remember the instructions he gave us back on the ship about landing protocol, and I guiltily raise my own rifle.

We wait for a full minute before Kai gives us the all-clear. Then he glares at me again.

“Sorry,” I mutter. “I forgot.”

He ignores me and motions for everyone to take a break. I dig wearily through my bag for food and more painkillers, avoiding making eye contact with anyone, especially Hana.

Now that we’re on the ground, the dense forest completely swallows the wind. The leaves and branches are closely entwined on all sides of us, trapping in the sticky air. Even though it’s barely dawn, I find I’m sweating ten times more than I was while airborne. My hair is frizzy and damp, plastered against my scalp. I release it from my hair tie and attempt to flap cool air onto my neck but only succeed in stretching the tender skin on my back, making me wince.

“Sore?” Julian sits down next to me.

I grunt a response.

“The fun’s just beginning,” he says.

“I wish we didn’t have to wear this armor,” I say, wiping my wet brow.

Julian takes a swig from his bottle. “It’s hot all right, but if we run into any Kaana, you’ll be glad you’ve got some protection.”

“And what happens if we run into a normal person?”

“Out here? Even if we do meet someone, it’ll be some poor local. They’re not a threat. And besides, they’re used to seeing military activity. Won’t give it a second thought.”

After a few minutes, Kai gives the order to move out, and I reluctantly replace my helmet and pick up my gear.

There’s absolutely no trail, so we have to force our way through the undergrowth. Junior walks at the head of the group, using a machete to hack away at the jungle and clear a narrow path, Kai navigating right behind him. With each suffocating step, my gear feels heavier and hotter. The painkillers succeed in making everything except my back grow numb.

From time to time, we walk into a cloud of insects. They swarm over my helmet and crawl up my arms and down my legs. For every five I swat, twenty appear in their place, and after a few futile attempts, I give up trying altogether.

“Stay alert,” Mokai says, looking back at us. “If we’re attacked, we won’t be able to windwalk in a hurry.”

I look up at the forest canopy. He’s right. Fighting our way through the intertwined branches would be a nightmare.

As we continue to hike, I begin to feel lightheaded. I stumble forward, tripping over the moss-covered logs and razor-edged fronds. The haze that’s been building in my brain since we left the boat grows stronger, feeding on the heat and pain and fatigue plaguing every nerve in my body. Sweat tortures the scabs smashed against my pack, setting my back on fire. The screaming of insects and wild animals builds to a crescendo in my temples, thundering alongside my burdened pulse.

And then, when a flock of parrots bursts out from a dense wall of trees, splitting the heavy air with their violent squeals, my trance intensifies into a waking hallucination. I’m both here and somewhere else, immersed in the same cacophony, feeling the same steamy exhaustion, but everything is bigger and darker and stranger. At once new and familiar.

Mokai holds up a hand to signal a break. Gasping, I steady myself on a tree trunk, trying to shake off the alarming vision. Hands trembling, I gulp down some water, spilling it on my chin, and reach for more meds.

Mokai makes us keep walking until shortly before dusk. When we stop for the night, my entire body is numb. I collapse on the ground, falling asleep where I sit. But someone kicks my boots and tells me I need to help set up camp. Hoping Kai didn’t see, I struggle back onto my feet.

When we’ve followed Kai’s protocol to the letter, our sleeping bags placed in a defensive circle, I’m at last allowed to crawl into my bivy and tear into a freeze-dried meal. Fatigue tugs fiercely on my eyelids, and I succumb willingly, too exhausted to care that I have to sleep in my hot armor.

As soon as my eyes shut, I’m immediately struggling through the jungle again, running from a swarm of flies that slowly transforms into a plume of smoke. But no matter where I run, I can’t get away.
I look behind me and discover the black curls are springing from flames on my back. The curving lines of the
hirimoko
are blazing into my skin, lighting my whole body on fire.

It will always burn. And they’ll never come back.

“Wake up, Kit. It’s your turn.”

I pry my eyes open with difficulty—my eyelids are still just as heavy, my vision blurred. Kai is standing over me, his head framed by fireflies.

“My what?” I groan.

“Your turn to watch.”

I push myself up and fruitlessly rub my eyes. “How long?”

“An hour. Then wake up Julian.”

“’Kay.” I reach stiffly for my rifle.

Mokai turns to go back to his spot on the ground then pauses and looks back at me. “How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Fine,” I lie.

“Your back?”

“It’s fine.”

“I can tell Hana to give you some stronger medication, if you need it.”

“I don’t need her help.”

“Kit, don’t be a fool.”

“Thanks for that.”

“Fine.” He turns away again.

“Hey, wait,” I call haltingly.

He turns back around. “Yeah?”

I pause, thinking of my dream, not sure what I want to say or how to say it. “Earlier today,” I begin, “I was having a weird feeling, like I’ve been here before. But I’ve never been to Mexico.”

He shrugs. “Maybe you
have
been here before. Or another part of the jungle anyway. I wouldn’t be surprised if Hemi brought you … and Mum … along when he sold a
hiri
to the Kaana.”

“What?”

“Well, we know he went to a bunch of the tribes. It’s possible.”

“Oh.” I don’t know how to respond. I feel dirty. Contaminated.

“Don’t forget to wake Julian at two hundred hours.” He walks back to his sleeping bag.

I take a seat on a tree stump and swat at the mosquitoes on my neck. The jungle is animated with its unnervingly familiar noises, and I look around warily, trying to ignore the stained feeling that’s creeping under my skin.

After an hour has passed, I shake Julian awake and crawl back onto my sleeping bag. But despite my weariness, it’s hard to go back to sleep. I keep trying to picture what it was like to be here a little over a decade ago with my parents, betraying our tribe. I can’t help feeling that by consorting with the Kaana, even unknowingly, I’ve also betrayed the twins.

I won’t have to worry about that much longer.
Soon, I’ll be with Jack and Maisy. Soon, I’ll get us all out of here.

I wake up to a pulsing pain in the scar on my arm. Suddenly, a clap of thunder shakes the trees and rain begins to ping off my boots. I groan and roll stiffly onto my side, into a puddle of mud. Cursing, I push myself up and look up at the sky—or what I can see of it. It must be coming down pretty hard to be getting through the trees. I run a hand through my matted hair and realize I forgot to replace my hair tie. I check my wrists then my sleeping bag and pack, but I can’t see it anywhere. Cursing again, I tuck the soggy strands behind my ears and climb to my feet.

Following the others’ lead, I roll up my mud-stained pad, shoving it into my bag, and pull out another packaged meal.

“We should reach our position by midday,” Kai tells us. “We’ll set up camp and prep for tomorrow’s attack. We’re neck deep in enemy territory now, so be extra cautious.”

I swallow some more meds, eager for the numbness they bestow on my strained muscles—and my thoughts.

When we’ve finished eating, we shoulder our gear and fall into formation, forging our way through the slippery jungle. As soon as I start moving, my back erupts with pain.
Just a few more hours
, I tell myself, grinding my teeth.
Breathe.
I walk haltingly and mechanically. My hair sits heavy and wet against the nape of my neck.

As the morning progresses, my brain ticks off the continuous signals sent by my protesting nerves. The sweat sliding down my legs. The blister forming on my right heel. The constant ache in my left arm. The agony sprawling across my back. I shove it all to the corners of my mind and keep forcing my way through the mud.

When the sun is at its zenith, sending streaks of light through breaks in the clouds and forest canopy, the trees thin slightly to reveal several ancient stone structures, half devoured by the jungle.

“What are they?” I ask Julian.

“Maya ruins, I bet,” he says. “There are thousands of them in this jungle. I’m surprised this is the first we’ve come across.”

“Let’s stop here,” Kai says from ahead of us. “This will make for an even better camping site than I had planned.”

I don’t wait to be told twice. With a gasp of relief, I slide my pack off my shoulders and drop it onto one of the crumbling walls.

Mokai sends Ostrich and Monkey on recon, while the rest of us set up camp. When the perimeter is secured and our gear stowed in the semi-protection of the ruins, I sit down in the entrance to one of the small buildings—unfortunately too small for us to camp in—and eat my lunch. The rain, which still hasn’t let up, trickles off the stone entryway like a delicate waterfall. I let it wash over my boots, which are coated in at least three inches of mud.

“Check this out,” Julian says. He’s standing further inside the building, shining the light on his wristband up onto the ceiling.

“I’m tired.”

“I’m serious. Come here!”

“Fine.” Setting my jaw, I force myself onto my feet. “This had better be good.”

“Look at this.” Julian points up at a line of glyphs carved onto the stone blocks overhead. The largest carving depicts a man sitting on top of a mountain, or maybe a pyramid, wearing a headdress in the shape of a bird and a pendant around his neck. I reach a hand out to touch the remarkably intact frieze.

Julian steps further into the room and whistles. He shines his light up to illuminate a carving of a serpent that sprawls across almost the entire length of the ceiling. “I wonder if this town was part of the Snake Kingdom,” he muses. “Calakmul, I think it’s called. I’d have to check the map … ”

As I stare at the stylized image, a knot forms in my stomach, springing from that feeling of unwanted familiarity. I’ve seen something like this before.

“Look at this one over here,” Julian calls, pointing to a glyph that resembles a twisting cloud. “I think this one means ‘Sky Born.’ Guess the Maya knew where they came from after all, eh. Bet that’s why they built their pyramids. Hoping to get back to the wind.” He rubs his chin thoughtfully. “I think there’s a city around here that means ‘Cleft Sky.’ The Maya must have remembered that they abandoned Rangiātea, even if their bleeding progeny don’t.”

I blink through the fog in my head to pay attention to what he’s saying. “How do you know so much about these?”

He shrugs. “I’ve been listening to an audiobook about it.”

“Audiobook?”

In response to my frown, he glances around to make sure we’re alone then pulls a cell phone out of his pocket.

“You have a cell phone!”

“Calm down!” he says, motioning with his hands for me to be quiet. “I just brought it so I could listen to music and stuff. I don’t have service or anything.”

“Music and stuff,” I repeat numbly, unable to fathom what I’m hearing.
Is this just a game to him? How can he be so cavalier?

“What’s the big deal?”

I turn around and leave without answering.

When I get outside, I see that Monkey and Ostrich have returned. They’re talking to Mokai under a tarp pitched against the wall of a decrepit temple. Mokai blows his whistle, signaling for the rest of us to join him. I walk toward the tarp and pick a spot well away from Julian.

“Let’s have your report,” Kai says to the scouts.

“Prison’s five klicks out,” Monkey answers. “It’s like we thought. Six guard towers—four at each corner, two at the entrance. Two guards per tower.”

“Weapons?”

“Two mounted machine guns on the front towers. Rest of the guards carry standard issue.”

“How many guards on the ground?”

“We counted six.”

Mokai nods. “What else?”

“Prison’s mostly underground,” Ostrich says. “In more bleeding ruins, only theirs’ve been restored. Solid stone. One entrance, and it’s got a ruddy biometrics scanner.”

“There’re two electric fences along the perimeter,” Monkey adds. “Blended into the trees. A fifteen-meter clearing in between.”

“Land mines?”

“Mos’ likely.”

Kai frowns. “What about from the air?”

“Trees as thick as ever. Electric meshing strung between.”

“Right.” Mokai scratches the tattoo on his arm. “There’s no way we’re getting inside. We’re outmanned two to one, and the place is impenetrable. We’ll stick with our original plan, then.”

He pulls out his map and spreads it across a stone block. “Let’s review,” he says. “Here’s the prison, and here’s the road leading to it. Tomorrow at nine hundred hours, an armored truck and two Jeep escorts will be arriving to pick up Yingo.” He circles a curve on the road with his finger. “We’ll ambush the convoy here before it gets to the prison and impersonate the Kaana warriors. Then we’ll retrieve Yingo ourselves and head to the extraction spot.

“Kahu and Aata, I want you on point,” he continues. “Set the trap for the first Jeep. Julian and Hahana will be our snipers, and Kit will be their spotter. Once the Jeep is stalled, they’ll take it down. Haimona, Etera, and I will come from the rear and deal with the team in the second Jeep then get ready to take the driver of the armored truck. Palo, you’ve got the party trick. Ihu will cover you.

“When all the Kaana are down, I’ll take the clothes of the highest ranking officer—the bloke with the documents releasing Yingo. Kahu will be the truck driver, Etera the Jeep driver. Everyone else will impersonate a solider. If you have a
moko
be sure to nab a full-face helmet, just in case. We’ll have to move quickly so we aren’t late getting to the prison. The sniper team will follow us there to provide back up.”

“Back up?” I interject, my temper surging. “You mean you’re leaving us out of it?” That was never mentioned in our meetings.

Mokai glares at me. “Don’t be stupid. A back up team is critical.”

I scowl in return.
He
is
leaving me out of it. He’s afraid I’ll mess with his plan.

“Once we have Yingo, we drive back along the road until we’re far enough from the prison to windwalk again,” Mokai says. “And then we move like
pueha
for the coast. We’ll use the trade winds, which should put us there by nightfall. The ship departs at dawn. Any questions?”

Everyone shakes their heads.

“Good,” Mokai says. “I want us in place at seven hundred hours. That means we’ll be getting up two hours before that. We’ll continue with our watch rotation. Try to get some rest.”

I wait while the others move back to their places in the mud; then I walk up to Mokai. “What about the twins?” I demand.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stop questioning my judgment,” he snaps. “Especially in front of the others.”

“Are you putting me on back up because you’re not going to rescue them and you don’t want me to get in the way?”

“Keep your voice down,” he hisses. “While I have every right to assume you’d screw things up—when do you ever follow my orders?—that’s not why I’m putting you on the sniper team. They need a rangefinder, and that’s something you can do. Stephen gave you the training.”

“I can shoot too, you know.”

“You don’t have the training for this. Just be glad I didn’t leave you on the boat. And yes, I do have a plan for the twins. I’ll add their names to the document requesting Yingo. We’ll pull them out at the same time we’re getting him.”

“Why didn’t you tell the others?”

“It’s not part of our orders. I don’t want to raise any concerns.”

I study his face. “You promise you’re going to get them out?”

“I’m going to do my best.”

“Your best?”

“Look, Kit, if we run into some hitch, I’m not going to jeopardize the mission. Getting Yingo out is the priority. We’ll take care of that and then come back for our siblings.”

“The two of us? On our own? You said it yourself that this place was impenetrable.”

“Then you’ll excuse me for not making any promises!” Mokai turns his back to me and walks over to where Hana is attempting to start a fire in the lee of the temple.

I slam my fist onto a nearby tree and glower at the back of his head. Calling up every expletive I know, I walk back toward my camp spot.

“Can you believe this rain?” I hear Julian say to Rex as I pass them. “It’s not even the wet season!”

I grit my teeth, wondering if he learned that from one of his stupid audiobooks.

When I reach my sleeping bag, I scoot under the tarp that’s doing little to keep my things dry and feel inside my pouch for my necklace. The coils of the
hiri
remind me of the coils on my back, and suddenly I feel the way the wet armor is pressing mercilessly into the cuts, suffocating the scabs, irritating my skin. I look in my pack for more meds, but I’m out.

“What d’ya think of our odds?” I hear Ostrich ask Monkey from their sleeping spot nearby.

“Too many variables,” Monkey says. “We don’t know how many men will be in the truck or even what kind of truck it will be. What if it’s a bleeding fixed track?”

“Ah well, if it ain’t this, it’d be something else. Don’t much matter to us, do it? As long as we’ve got a fight.”

“I know, mate. I’m just saying, this Yingo bloke better be bloody important if he’s worth this kind of insanity. I didn’t sign up for a suicide mission.”

The twins are worth it
. But even as I think it, I feel my chest constrict. Can I ask these people to give their lives for my family? Maybe Mokai is right to be cautious.

No! We have to save them. They’re just kids. They didn’t do anything. Everyone else chose to be here, to be a warrior.

The rest of the day passes slowly. The rain never lets up, and soon it’s difficult to remember how it felt to be dry. Without the painkillers, my back throbs mercilessly, and finally, in an act of desperation, I wait until Hana is alone and then approach her cot.

“What do you want?” she asks when I’m standing in front of her.

“I need your help,” I say, not meeting her eyes. “To replace my bandages. You’re the only other girl here,” I say quickly, needing to justify my request.

She smirks but agrees to help. We walk into the meager privacy of the collapsed temple, stepping over mounds of rubble, and she helps me wiggle out of the wet armor. As soon as she peels off my shirt, she swears.

“That bad?” I ask.

“The scabs have reopened,” she reports crisply. “Your shirt is soaked with blood and the bandages are sopping wet. You really need to let the cuts breathe so they don’t get infected, but with this rain … ”

“What can we do?”

“I can put new wrappings on your back, but they’ll get wet quickly, especially since your clothes are wet.”

“Can we place a piece of plastic, or something waterproof, between the bandages and my shirt? Maybe my spare tarp?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” she says. “I’ll be right back.”

When she returns, we apply ointment and bandages to my cuts, and she winds the tarp around my midsection. We start to put my shirt back on, but once I feel how wet and bloody it is, I opt to leave it off for now and instead just wear the bullet-proof vest.

“Thanks,” I say. My back is still itchy and sore, but at least it feels dry.