Savage Lands (2 page)

“The man just saved my life!” snapped Archie. “And you're talking about William's father, not him. He's only recently taken the title. He's already told us about Rokoff. The Russian was nothing more than a con artist, using the Greystokes as much as he used us.”

Jane threw her hands in the air melodramatically. “And you believe him? Sometimes I wonder how we can be related!”

A hurt expression crossed Archie's face, but it was Clark who spoke up, unable to keep the spite from his voice.

“Y'know somethin', sweetheart? I wonder that sometimes too. I can only figure out that you took your mum's brains—and she was dumb enough to run away.”

Being reminded of how Jane's mother had abandoned them stung. She had left without a word, leaving them with debt so severe that Archie had been forced to abandon his life as a doctor and turn to more lucrative, if illegal, activities so they could start all over again.

“It's no surprise you want in on this. Wasn't it your idea, anyway?” Jane snapped. “How much is he offering to pay you?”

“A million quid,” said Clark levelly. “Just to hand back Tarzan's title. And if he don't wanna live in England, then he's free to stay 'ere. The only difference will be that we're not 'ere; we're someplace else and rich.” Clark leaned forward in his chair. “And let's make one thing clear, missy.” He poked a finger at her. “I've had about enough of you constantly sabotagin' not just your dad's happiness, but mine too. We've been good enough to ask your opinion, but we don't need it. Y'see, I know where the plane went down.” He gestured to the jungle in general and grinned when Jane glanced at Robbie who leaned guiltily back in his chair.

“Even before Robbie got to see it for 'imself, I had the GPS coordinates of where Rokoff tagged Tarzan. That's how the Russian knew where to find Karnath. That's how I know where we're gonna lead his lordship.”

Nobody except Clark could face Jane's accusing stare. With a sharp intake of breath she darted from the cabin.

“Jane, wait!” shouted Archie.

“Leave her be,” said Clark. “She's not stupid enough to waltz into the jungle at night. Besides, where will she go, eh?” Clark stood, wincing as his injured leg took his weight. “We should all have an early night. Tomorrow's the day we all turn very rich.”

• • •

T
he
next morning, Robbie searched the camp for Jane, but was not surprised to see her gone. In the past he would have worried, but he knew exactly where she was headed. Jane must have made a break for it in the pre-dawn light, a time when the soft hues bathed the misty jungle, giving it a magical edge. He hooked a machete to his belt and followed Jane's faint spoor through the foliage. She had learned to move through the jungle without leaving too many signs of passing, and Robbie was beginning to worry he had made a mistake until, after an hour, the trail opened up into the Dum-Dum.

It was a wide clearing that was nothing more than a dust bowl, bordered on one side by a smooth curving cliff some thirty feet high. Several hollow logs lay in the dust, their trunks long devoured by insects, forming natural drums, which Tarzan had shown Jane how to beat to call him in times of danger. The pounding rhythm was amplified by the concave cliff and carried across the jungle for many miles.

Jane sat glumly on one log, staring at the surrounding trees. She didn't turn around when Robbie entered the clearing. He realized she'd heard his almost-silent approach and swore she had picked up on some of the incredible heightened skills Tarzan possessed.

“He's not coming,” she said in almost a whisper.

“Call again.”

She shook her head and turned to him. She was worried. Her long blonde hair had hastily been tied into a ponytail, and her face was still smudged with dirt from the previous day.

“They will find the plane, but they won't find him there,” she said.

Robbie felt his cheek flush with guilt. It was his fault they knew where to look. “Jane, I'm sorry… .”

“No need. I know you thought differently then… . Thought you were doing the right thing.”

Robbie nodded. When he had first met Tarzan, he hadn't warmed to the ape-man. It wasn't until he had joined Jane and Tarzan in their search for the kidnapped ape, Karnath, that he got to know the wild man. The many perils they faced had formed a bond as strong as a familial one. Robbie didn't want to see any harm befall his friend any more than Jane did. He still felt slivers of guilt every time he thought back to how he had planned to betray Tarzan.

“How do you know he's not there?” asked Robbie.

“He took me to a place he intended to take his family for food.”

Robbie recalled Jane had mentioned something about a volcano; Clark had heard her say that too, but now didn't feel like the time to bring it up.

“So what do we do?”

Jane looked thoughtful, then smiled. “Perhaps we should let them find the airplane. Maybe that will be enough… .”

“You think we should go with them?” said Robbie in surprise.

A smile broke Jane's worried frown and she suddenly looked full of life again. “Better than that. We're going to really
help
them.”

T
he rush of the wind was the only thing the ape-man could hear as he ran along a slender bough no wider than his foot. The hundred-foot drop below meant nothing to him. He didn't stop his breakneck pace even as the branch drooped under his weight. He had run through the trees all his life and could read the steady pulse of the wood through the soles of his feet. As the branch bent even lower, Tarzan tensed his powerful thigh muscles and leaped.

The branch acted like a springboard, catapulting him high into the air and out across the canopy of trees. His eyes were locked on to his landing area ahead—he knew with solid certainty where he would fall.

His feet crashed through the leafy canopy, startling a small knot of
manu
. The monkeys screeched at him as they fled from his path. Tarzan only had to use one hand to reach for a branch to stabilize himself as he hopped from branch to branch and carouseled around the huge trunk of a tree. Almost as fast as a man sprinting on the ground below, he jumped into the branches of an interlocking tree where he brachiated almost as fast as he could run—before dropping several feet onto a limb.

Ahead, through the dense leaves, he caught sight of a shock of coarse gray hair as the Targarni he was pursuing knuckled on all fours through the undergrowth, oblivious to his presence. Once again the Targarni had struck the Mangani, and their constant frays were beginning to test Tarzan's patience, like a tick that couldn't be scratched. He knew the Targarni numbered enough to evict the Mangani from the territory if they wished, so Tarzan was puzzled as to why they insisted on only small skirmishes.

After almost an hour, he sensed he was close to the heart of the Targarni's home. He could smell their stale stench, even through the odor of the foul Thunder Mountain. Tarzan paused at the top of a crooked tree that bent out from the slope of the mountain below, offering an unrivaled view of the land.

The volcano's peak rose behind him, and he judged himself to be close to the edge of the trees, near the barren scree slopes that took the brunt of the red rocks occasionally ejected from the cone. Thin plumes of gray smoke rolled from the cone, but Tarzan was accustomed to the sight. Here the soil was rich, and the jungle more lush than the valley below.

Tarzan remained stock-still, absorbing the world around him. The sounds of the jungle were comforting. Nothing was amiss, yet the smell of the Targarni assured him danger was at hand. A pair of
neeta
dropped onto the branch close to him and ruffled their bright yellow feathers as they preened. They didn't consider Tarzan a threat, just part of the scenery, so didn't notice him slink to the ground.

Using a trailing liana, Tarzan gently lowered himself without a sound. Doubled over, he stealthily ran up the slope, toward the strengthening scent of Targarni. Every one of his senses was now pulsing—something was very wrong. He crouched behind a boulder and peered over the top.

The ground beyond was shrouded in a fine mist. The trees thinned out, clinging to a network of large rocks that sprouted among the jungle. It took a moment for the stone's regularity to register with Tarzan, and he suddenly realized what he was looking at was the work of man, not nature. Even the boulder he was hunkering behind was several huge square stone blocks carefully fitted together. There was no obvious pattern to the ruins. They were nothing like the geometric shapes he had seen in the city or even in Jane's camp. There were images carved into the rock, most so weatherworn it was impossible to discern what they were supposed to be.

Tarzan had no interest in pictures. Emerging from behind the boulder, he took several cautious steps forward. Through the mist, he could see that there was something ahead, but could not quite make out what it was. The volcanic fumes and mist were rendering Tarzan's honed senses almost useless. Then he froze.

A pair of massive claws protruded from the undergrowth, perhaps a lion's, but it was difficult to tell. Nevertheless, they represented a beast the size of the trees. His heart pounded, but he held his ground long enough to see that the claws were made from stone. Between them lay a black void, an entrance of some kind. It was from there that the unpleasant smell emanated. Tarzan recognized it as the stench of death.

Tarzan quickly retreated. His thoughts on the Targarni were blacker than ever and uncertainty gnawed at him. Had he made a mistake bringing his family there?

• • •

L
ord
William Greystoke had taken Jane's offer to accompany them with a charming smile and assurances that he only meant to help his cousin and not hinder him. Clark took her sudden change in attitude with a huge amount of scepticism. His brow furrowed further when Jane apologized to him for losing her temper.

It took several hours for the expedition to pack their gear. William Greystoke played his part helping others, not once complaining. It was a move that gained the respect of Archie and the loggers, who expected the lord to consider himself above such things.

By 10 a.m., Greystoke, Archie, Robbie, and Jane were ready, delayed only by Clark, who had difficulty shouldering his heavy supplies due to his injured leg. Even though they expected to be away for no more than two days, the supplies would last them for a week should anything unexpected happen. Archie tried to convince Clark to stay behind.

“An' miss out on the fortune an' glory?” hissed Clark as pain shot through his leg. “Not a chance, mate. Not a chance.” He swallowed painkillers and wordlessly hefted his backpack over his shoulders, now made lighter by losing two days' worth of backup supplies. “We could all do with losin' a few pounds anyway,” he commented, patting his stomach when Robbie questioned the rash action.

Mr. David had wanted to come, but Archie needed him to run the camp while they were away. Jane would have felt safer if he had come. She didn't trust Greystoke at all. She had read up on the family and was all too aware of their merciless streak. There was nothing she liked about the English lord and could all too easily imagine his cruel intentions.

The sun shone through the canopy, casting a network of shadows across their trail and providing welcome shade from the harsh sunlight. Despite misgivings, Jane and Robbie felt good to be traveling again and led from several yards ahead. They followed a trail that bypassed the Dum-Dum and snaked up a gentle hillside. After three hours, their clothes were damp with sweat and, with Clark lagging behind, Archie called for a break. On a plateau, they could see the jungle spread out beneath them, broken by a patchwork of brown rivers that vanished into the distance, joining the mighty Congo River somewhere over the horizon.

Robbie couldn't keep the smile off his face as he confided in Jane. “If you would've asked me a couple of months ago if I enjoyed hacking through all this …” he shook his head. “Now I just don't want to go back. Know what I mean?”

Jane didn't have the words to reply. She just smiled and took in the vista; she knew exactly what he meant. Out here was freedom, away from rules and regulations, far from the nightmares that had haunted them both back in so-called civilization. Their near-death experiences had lit a fire within them that made them feel more alive than ever before.

Archie and Clark broke out the cooking gear and soon had food bubbling away. Greystoke walked in a slow circle, holding a GPS device above his head as he searched for a signal. “Blasted thing!” he muttered.

Robbie smirked. The previous night he had broken into Greystoke's equipment and carefully unscrewed the device, breaking a single wire that connected to the antenna—rendering the GPS useless.

“Are you sure we're headed the right way?” Greystoke said, casting a suspicious sidelong glance at Jane.

“Pretty much.”

“
Pretty much?
” His voice was cold. “Out here there is no margin for error, my dear.”

Jane's smile dropped and she glared at him. “There are also no street signs, your lordship.”

She saw her father raise a hand to cover the smile on his face, but Clark's eyes narrowed and he reached for the GPS.

“Gimme that. She knows. They both do. Two heads better than one, eh?” He examined the GPS, carefully rolling it in his hand and giving both Jane and Robbie a suspicious look.

Archie spoke up. “Well, we need to get going. I don't like the look of those clouds.” He indicated the black swirl that had appeared over the mountain peak behind them. The weather was unpredictable at the best of times, but the glowering cumulonimbus above looked ominous.

• • •

T
he
rain came in leaden sheets so heavy that the group could only see a few yards in front of them. Their path meandered close to a sharp slope that dropped to a cliff below, so the reduced visibility was more than an inconvenience.

Ponchos had been broken out, snugly fitting over their backpacks but doing little to keep anyone's legs dry below the knees. The ground rapidly changed from parched leaves to mud that sucked them down to their ankles and slowed progress. Rivulets of water trickling down the mountainside soon sprang into fast-flowing streams with enough force to sweep their feet from under them.

“Are you sure this is the way?” shouted Clark from over pattering rain that sounded as if the forest canopy was ready to collapse on them. His injured leg was forcing him to the back of the group with Robbie.

Robbie squinted, the rain stinging his eyes. “Think so. We really need the sun to check the direction.” The driving rain drowned out any response from Clark, but as Robbie wiped his eyes he was startled to see the large man was bearing quickly down on him despite his injured leg. He wiped his eyes clear just as Clark roughly grabbed his shoulder and pulled him so close he could smell the man's stale breath.

“Listen 'ere, mate,” Clark hissed as low as he could. “This ain't no game. This is serious cash that's gonna get us all out of this hellhole and we don't need you screwin' it up!”

Robbie shook him off. He was too surprised by Clark's sudden violent streak; this from the man who had found him stowed away on a cargo ship and offered him unquestioned help and friendship. Was the lure of being so close to the riches he'd always wanted now distorting Clark's priorities? Robbie's mind wondered, trying to make sense of it all, before he realized Archie was shouting a warning.

“Guys!”

Robbie glanced up just in time and saw the earth move through the trees uphill. Archie and Greystoke were already scrambling for cover from what was approaching. Rain stung Robbie's eyes again, forcing them shut—but not before he heard the low rumble of the mudslide as it rushed toward them like a freight train. The previous earth tremors had dislodged a huge chunk of earth higher up and the sudden rain had been all that was needed to turn it to liquid.

Robbie turned to run, blindly grabbing for Clark who was frozen to the spot, staring up at the wall of mud and debris piling toward them.

“Clark!” Robbie could say no more before he felt the ground pulled from beneath his feet as the mudslide poured into him. He felt himself falling backward, and caught a brief glimpse of Jane reaching for him with one hand, the other securing her to a sturdy tree limb, before he tumbled onto his back.

Robbie reached out for anything to which he could anchor himself, but his hands cut through the shifting mud. He could feel it everywhere—in his eyes, his ears, even seeping into his mouth.

He lost all sense of direction as he spun around. Something soft bounced into him and ricocheted away—Clark? He tried to reach for it, but his grasp was slick. Then he struck something hard—a tree. His breath was knocked out of him as he spun around the object. Before he could get a grip, the muddy torrent bore him away again, glancing his shoulder off another tree before his stomach lurched and he dropped like a stone. With a sickening sense of dread, he knew he had been dragged over the cliff.

• • •

T
o
Jane, it felt as if her arm was being yanked from her socket as she held on to the tree, the mudslide flowing beneath her, pulling at her legs. For almost half a minute there seemed to be no end to the torrent—until it suddenly petered out to a trickle then stopped. The trail they had been on was now five feet higher, a slick wedge of mud that led from the mountain above to the drop below.

Even though the avalanche had stopped, Jane didn't dare let go of the branch. She fought for breath, still shocked at seeing Robbie and Clark dragged away in an instant.

“Jane!”

Archie emerged from a knot of trees, Greystoke following closely behind. The backs of both men were covered in glossy mud from where they had hidden from the deluge.

“Dad!” Seeing Archie finally gave Jane the strength to release the branch. She caught her balance in the mud and ran across to hug him. With every step she took, the mud shifted beneath her boots and her arms windmilled, keeping her balanced.

“Where are the others?” asked Greystoke with concern, although Jane had no doubt he was only worried about being left out here alone.

“They were swept over,” she answered as the reality hit her: They could be dead. That was how the jungle usually claimed its victims, with swift attacks. Normally she had no time to let the danger sink in before it had passed, but now she felt sick at the thought of losing her friends.

“ROBBIE!” she yelled, trying to move closer to the edge of the slope to see over.

Two steps were all it took for the mud beneath her to ebb forward, slowly pulling her toward the brink. She tried to remove a foot to backtrack, but the mud held it fast and she inched toward the inevitable drop.

“Hold on!” yelled Greystoke.

She turned to see him yanking his poncho off, and dropping his backpack to the floor. He was already soaked to the skin as he freed the climbing rope bundled to the bottom of the pack.