The Jungle Warrior (19 page)

Robbie studied the GPS and adjusted the scale, something he hadn't done for a while. He was shocked to discover Rokoff's tracer was very close. He moved the GPS around from east to west, settling on a straight northeastern route. From here he could see a small hill, beyond which vultures circled.

“We're close. Very close. Rokoff must have stopped for a while.”

“Where is he?”

“About two miles over that hill. From up there we could probably see him.”

“Great! Just as we have to walk!”

Tarzan peered at the hill. “Rokoff there?”

Robbie nodded. “If we had the car we would have been on top of him within an hour. But he's moving on again now.”

“Car dead?” said Tarzan prodding the jeep with his bare foot.

“Car dead,” Robbie confirmed, imitating Tarzan. He sighed and leaned on the vehicle. “And when we get anywhere near Rokoff he'll see us coming.”

Tarzan looked around, studying his surroundings, forming a plan. “No. Rokoff not see.”

He cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed. It was a melodious yodeling cry that echoed across the plains. Jane had heard it once before and it filled her with hope.

•••

“Forty miles,” said Paulvitch as he studied the GPS. “Then I'm going to a damned hospital.”

“You can wait until we reach Kampala,” said Rokoff quietly.

“That's another 150 miles on a boat!”

Rokoff shrugged, keeping his eyes on the path ahead. This close to delivering the gorilla, he didn't want to risk grounding the convoy in a ditch.

“Then make your way to Mwanza. They have a good hospital there.”

Paulvitch scowled. “And leave you to claim our paycheck without me? You must think I was born yesterday, my friend.”

Rokoff smiled. Out in the wild they had no choice but to trust each other, but when it came to financial dealings, Paulvitch needed to touch the money himself before he accepted it was real.

The sun was balanced just over the horizon, casting spectacular rays of light through the clouds. Herds of zebra and wildebeest lined the route ahead, many galloping away, nervous, as the convoy cut through their lines. The collective brays of the animals were louder than the vehicles' engines.

“We won't make it before nightfall,” Rokoff commented.

“I'd rather not camp out here another night, if it's all the same,” said Paulvitch as he rubbed his broken hand. He expected a snide comment from Rokoff, but none was forthcoming. Instead Rokoff kept glancing in the wing mirrors, his brow furrowed.

“What's wrong?” asked Paulvitch.

“I'm not sure.”

Rokoff rolled to a stop and cut the engine. The vehicle's sliding roof was already open to cool the Land Rover down. Rokoff stood on his seat and peered out. The three trucks behind had stopped too. Agitated animals were milling all around them. Behind the convoy, dark storm clouds blotted the horizon and silent sheet lightning pulsed between them. Without the sound of the engines, all Rokoff could hear was the constant murmuring of hundreds of animals running past him. He peered into the distance then fished a pair of binoculars from the back of his seat. He looked out across the herds, but could see nothing but a mass of bodies and dust. Something was not quite right.

Paulvitch joined Rokoff standing in the open sunroof. “Lions?” he asked. He had witnessed a hungry pride of lions scare a similar-sized herd before. But when big cats attacked, the animals usually only ran out of range before stopping and continuing to graze. These animals just kept running. Then something caught his eye. “What . . . ? What is that?”

Something was moving within the herd. It was heading in their direction. Rokoff raised the binoculars again. His view was obscured by dust—then Tarzan's face suddenly appeared. Rokoff gasped, dropping the binoculars in shock. Tarzan was only seven hundred feet away and powering toward them on the back of a zebra. Robbie and Jane followed, also on zebras, clinging to the animals' manes.

Nikolas Rokoff was struck dumb. He had never seen such a sight. The ranks of wildebeest thundered toward the convoy and, within seconds, hundreds of animals were rampaging between the vehicles as plumes of dry dust obscured everything.

The Russians covered their faces with scarves so they could breathe freely. Rokoff finally found his voice. “Don't let him near the ape!” He grabbed his rifle and jumped off the vehicle—straight into the path of a wildebeest. He was forced to flatten himself against the Land Rover to avoid being trampled.

Then gunshots rang out. Three of his hired lackeys were standing on the tailgate of the nearest truck taking shots at the figures riding toward them. Robbie and Jane, risking falling from their mounts, hurled rocks at the men, their backpacks brimming with more ammunition.

Rokoff ducked as a rock glanced off his head and shattered the Land Rover's side window. He could feel the blood roll down his forehead. The girl had thrown it. He fired at her, but in the chaos and dust it was impossible to take aim. He shouted to the convoy drivers.

“Let's go!”

Rokoff noticed one of his bodyguards had Tarzan in his sights, but before he could pull the trigger there was a flash of yellow and a sleek cheetah leaped from the dust cloud, claws extended. The man cried in pain as the cat cannoned into him and they both fell from the truck. Rokoff heard his screams choke as the cheetah tore into its prey.

The drivers all started their engines at the same time, concluding that they only stood a chance if they moved.

Jane galloped her zebra across the path of the middle truck, hurling a rock straight through the windshield. It shattered, striking the driver on the head. The man slumped over the wheel and his heavy foot pressed the accelerator, making the truck lurch toward the one in front.

Jane only just managed to clear the space between them as the two trucks collided. The impact knocked one of the gunmen off the tailgate of the middle truck and he fell under the herd's hooves.

In the cab, the unconscious driver was yanked aside and his passenger took the wheel. The vehicles lumbered forward. Several wildebeest were caught under their wheels, unable to escape.

Rokoff glanced in the Land Rover's mirror—and when he looked up he was almost on top of a zebra. The animal bounded clumsily onto the hood, hooves slipping on the smooth metal surface. One leg smashed through the windshield and broke the headrest of Paulvitch's seat. He had been leaning forward to pull a pistol from the glove compartment and narrowly missed being decapitated. The zebra slid across the hood and fell to the ground, where it picked itself up, dazed but unharmed. Paulvitch tried to shoot the animal out of spite, but missed.

Behind Rokoff's truck, Jane and Robbie hurled more rocks at the convoy. Tarzan wheeled his zebra around, his heels digging into the animal's flanks as he urged it toward the last truck. He gained distance on the truck, just as one of Rokoff's hired poachers pulled the canvas sheet away, rifle in hand. He saw Tarzan just a few feet behind, did a double take, then brought the gun to his shoulder.

Tarzan sprang up so that he was standing on the zebra's back. For a moment he seemed to be surfing the animal before he propelled himself forward, into the back of the truck.

He landed in front of the gun-wielding bodyguard and gripped the rifle with both hands. Since the thug wasn't about to let go so easily, Tarzan angled the weapon and hit him in the face with the rifle butt. The man was surprised to be struck by the very gun he was holding. Tarzan flipped him over his shoulder and, bouncing off the tailgate, he fell under the thundering hooves of the herd that followed.

Tarzan's gaze swept the truck. There was no sign of Karnath. Six long ivory elephant tusks lay on the floor. They were still flecked with blood. Tarzan felt his pulse quicken as he was gripped by rage. Then he saw another man, crouching in the shadows. The bodyguard sprang forward, a machete in his hand.

The first blow sliced across Tarzan's chest, drawing blood as it sliced into his flesh. Tarzan barely registered the pain. He caught the man's hand as he slashed again with the blade. Only now did Tarzan notice this new poacher was as big as he was—and he had the upper hand as he pressed his weight down on Tarzan. The blade inched closer to Tarzan's face and both men's muscular arms shook as they wrestled.

The bodyguard then drove his elbow into the bleeding cut across Tarzan's chest. The pain was excruciating and Tarzan felt a moment's weakness buckle his arms. The machete slammed down with the man's full weight behind it.

Tarzan turned his head aside—the blade nicked his ear lobe and ricocheted from the metal floor. With his weight behind it, the bodyguard over-balanced and fell sprawling across the truck, clanging against the tailgate.

Tarzan was first to stand as his opponent grabbed the truck's canvas side to pull himself up.

“I'm gonna gut you like an animal,” the man snarled. He tossed the machete into his other hand, menacingly slicing it through the air as he took a step toward Tarzan.

Tarzan picked up one of the heavy ivory tusks, using both hands to wield it like a spear. Then he hurled it with all the force he could muster.

•••

The herd around Rokoff was showing no signs of thinning out. They were moving so fast that the vehicle bounced wildly across the uneven ground. One pothole jerked Rokoff from his seat so violently that he banged his head on the Land Rover's roof.

He glanced in the mirror and was glad to see the trucks were following. Then to his astonishment, he saw one of his men sail from the back of the rear truck—skewered through the chest by an ivory tusk. The screaming man vanished into the dust cloud.

He saw Tarzan climb from the back of the truck and onto the cab roof. Tarzan reached in through the side window and plucked out the driver. The truck veered sharply as it hit a deep rut in the ground, and then flipped over and crashed onto its roof, ivory spilling everywhere—just as Tarzan leaped on the next truck.

“Shoot him!” Rokoff yelled to Paulvitch.

Paulvitch nodded and stood up through the sunroof, trying to stand firm as the Land Rover swayed around him.

•••

Robbie had ridden a horse before, but only once, and he'd never ridden a zebra. He was finding the whole experience extremely uncomfortable. Nevertheless, he encouraged the zebra alongside the lead truck and lobbed the last of his rocks through the window. Both missed the driver. The driver swerved toward Robbie, almost running into him. As Robbie tried to steer the zebra away, a pair of strong hands grabbed his hair and his jacket and he was dragged into the back of the truck.

•••

Jane was distressed to see Robbie disappear into the truck. She tried to turn her zebra toward him by pulling its mane, but the truck abruptly veered to the side, revealing Rokoff's Land Rover just in front. Paulvitch was bouncing from side to side through the sunroof when he spotted Jane and took a shot. Luckily, it fell wide. Jane frantically steered her mount in a zigzag to avoid the shots that followed.

She saw Tarzan throw two men and a supply crate through the side of the other truck then climb through the ripped canvas, intent on delivering punishment to the driver. He obviously hadn't found Karnath there. Jane realized both Robbie and the gorilla were on the same truck, the one that had now slowed to the back of the convoy, probably to confuse them.

From his vantage point on the Land Rover at the head of the convoy, Paulvitch caught sight of Tarzan clinging to the side of the cab, ready to throttle the driver. The Russian swung his gun at him, unable to aim as the jeep bucked on ruts in the ground. His first shot narrowly missed Tarzan and punctured the truck's radiator. Steam spewed out as he fired again.

Just then a pair of cheetahs drew alongside the Land Rover, their sleek spotted bodies undulating as they easily kept pace with the vehicles. One tried to jump up—its claws raked the rear window but then it fell, tumbling safely away.

The other made a clean bound onto the roof, claws digging into the metal as its fierce jaws bit down on Paulvitch's broken hand, and a claw slashed at his face. He screamed and shot wildly. The cheetah jumped from the Land Rover unharmed, with Paulvitch's plaster cast in its mouth.

Paulvitch's stray shot grazed Tarzan's bicep and hit the driver of the second truck. The entire vehicle lurched sideways, bounced from a rock and rolled through the grass. The herd parted and moved from the path of destruction as pieces of broken metal flew in every direction. The remaining truck, containing Robbie and Karnath, swerved sharply around the wreckage.

“Tarzan!” Jane yelled. There was no sign of him. The last she'd seen of him, he was clinging to the side of the flipping truck.

She raced toward the wreckage, pulling on the zebra's mane to bring it to a halt, then jumped off and ran over to the scene.

“Tarzan?”

The mangled truck was strewn across the grassland. Smoke poured from the smashed engine. She saw an arm poking from underneath a flap of canvas and pulled the cloth away, revealing Tarzan beneath. He was motionless, his body covered in blood, although she was unsure whose.

“No!” She knelt down, unsure what to do. “Can you hear me?”

Her stomach knotted and she felt ill. Tarzan couldn't possibly be dead, could he?

She looked up to see the Land Rover and remaining truck heading toward the horizon. On board were Karnath and Robbie. She knew the little ape would be in safe hands—after all there was a collector waiting for him. Who knew what fate awaited Robbie.

The herd dispersed and the pair of cheetahs licked their wounds, taking shelter from the harsh sun under a large acacia, watching her. Jane had no idea what to do. If Tarzan were dead, she too would undoubtedly die out here, alone.

R
obbie was furious. He felt foolish for allowing himself to be captured and now found himself in close proximity to Nikolas Rokoff. To his surprise, Rokoff had been a perfect gentleman and offered him water and food after saving him from the thugs in the truck beating him black and blue. Rokoff had yelled at them. He even struck one man with a knotted rope until he was bleeding.