The Portal (A Delphi Group Thriller Book 2) (27 page)

“Maybe she lives here on the mountain,” Brett said. “And if she does, then it’s possible we’re near an entrance.”

“Possibly,” Zane whispered. Something bothered him about the sighting, but for now he tucked it away. He pulled his rifle off his shoulder. “Let’s go have a look.”

The boulders were about four feet tall, just high enough for someone to crouch behind. Zane approached slowly, not because the little girl posed a threat, but because of who might be with her. Zane lifted his rifle as he came around the rocks. No one was there.

After the others joined him, Jorge squatted and stared at something on the ground. “There was someone here.” He pointed at a faint impression in the hard-packed soil. “And the footprint seems to be about the size of a small child’s.”

Zane scanned the area. The buffer seemed to narrow just ahead, with the jungle a mere thirty feet or so from the escarpment. That was likely the direction she’d fled, although she could have ducked off into the woods too.

“Let’s keep going,” Brett said. “I believe she may be the key to getting up the mountain.”

Zane felt a pinch in his gut. Something still bothered him, although he wasn’t sure what. “You may be right, but let’s keep our eyes and ears open.”

They moved forward in the growing darkness. Not only were the jungle trees closer here, but as they traveled to the northeast, the sun was becoming blocked by the mountain.

Suddenly Jorge stopped and grabbed Zane’s arm. “Look!”

Zane stared ahead. At first he couldn’t see anything, but as his eyes adjusted, he made out a tiny figure standing about fifty yards ahead.
The girl.

Brett lifted his binoculars. “She looks scared.”

“I think she’s lost,” Jorge said.

“Maybe,” Zane whispered.

“We need to help her,” Artur said.

Zane used the scope on his rifle to view the girl. She was clad in the typical garb of an Indian tribe, with animal skin clothing and a clump of necklaces looped around her neck. Brett was right, there was a look of concern on her face. Zane felt another pinch in his gut.

Zane rose to his feet. “Let’s see if she’ll let us get close.”

The four proceeded slowly. In addition to watching the girl, Zane took an occasional glance toward the trees on their right.

“She’s moving,” Jorge said.

Zane looked up just in time to see her disappear around a bend.

“Let’s go,” Zane shouted.

They sprinted the remaining distance. After making the turn, they came to an abrupt halt. The buffer had widened again, and they found themselves in a large clearing about the size of a football field. Zane frowned. The girl was nowhere to be seen.

Brett turned in several different directions. “Where is she? There’s no way she could’ve made it to the other end. An Olympic sprinter couldn’t have made it that far.”

Jorge pointed toward some scattered boulders on the left. “What about over there? That seems like the only place she could’ve made it to.”

Zane led them over to the boulders, but once again they came up empty. Jorge walked over to the base of the mountain and pushed aside some of the vines with his rifle. After looking around for a few seconds, he looked at Zane and shook his head.

Brett stared at the jungle, hands on his hips. “It’s like she vanished into thin air.”

Jorge got down on one knee and examined the ground behind the boulders. “I see signs that people have been here, but it’s hard to tell how recent the prints are.”

Zane clenched his jaw as they stood in silence. Where had she gone? The only possibility was into the jungle. But if that was true, then why hadn’t she simply run there to begin with?

Artur cleared his throat. “I need to tell all of you something.”

Jorge stood and stared at him with a frown.

After a long pause, Artur said, “Something happened back at the bridge.”

“What are you talking about?” Jorge asked.

“I stayed behind to gather my things… and… and I saw something in the bushes.”

Something lurched in the pit of Zane’s stomach. He sensed he was about to learn why he’d felt the pinch in his gut.

Jorge nodded that he should continue.

The Brazilian let out a sigh. “As I got ready to leave, I saw something in the shadows. At first I didn’t know what it was, but then I realized someone was looking at me.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t an animal?” Jorge asked.

“I don’t think so. I saw the eyes… a man’s eyes, just peering at me from the shadows.”

Jorge’s face reddened. “Why didn’t you tell us about that?”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure what it was… I mean, I thought it was a man, but I couldn’t be sure.”

“What did you do?” Brett asked.

“I got my gun, but by the time I looked back, the face was gone. After that, I heard some movement in several places, but I couldn’t really see anything.”

Jorge said something in Portuguese. From his tone, it sounded like a string of expletives.

Brett looked at Jorge. “Do you think it was the Dawanis?”

“Possibly,” he said, stroking his mustache. “Unfortunately we don’t have any way of knowing.”

Brett looked at Zane. “Do you think it has something to do with what happened here?”

“Yes, I think it does. In fact, I think we’d better—”

Before he could finish, Artur gave a loud grunt. Zane turned in time to see the Brazilian wobble then collapse to the ground. Something was sticking out of his shoulder.

Just as Zane realized what was happening, a long, wailing shriek bellowed out of the jungle behind them.

“BEHIND THE ROCKS!” Zane shouted as another arrow hissed overhead.

A third was right behind it, burying into a vine branch behind them.

Zane seized Brett, pulling him down behind the largest boulder. It was a miracle they hadn’t been hit. He turned and saw that Jorge had pulled Artur behind another rock a few feet away.

The barrage of arrows intensified over the next few seconds. Zane dropped his pack and brought his rifle around. He crept to his left, setting up in the space between two boulders. It only gave him a limited view of the jungle, but it was all he had.

Zane looked at Brett. “Get your gun out.”

“All I have is a pistol. I can’t—”

“Just do it. We have to scare them. It’s the only way to keep them from making a run. They do that, and we’ll be overrun.”

War cries and wails echoed out of the jungle, raising the hairs on the back of Zane’s neck. The sounds were primordial, beast-like.

Zane rose up on one elbow then unleashed a spray of bullets across the wall of green. The wails and arrows seemed to die in response, at least for the time being.

Brett rose and fired off several rounds. Suddenly, he looked to his right and shouted, “One o’clock!”

Zane pivoted just in time to see one of the attackers dart across a gap in the jungle, only to disappear once again. He projected where the man would come to a stop and fired two shots. He heard a scream. At least one of the bullets had found its mark.

With the lull in action, Zane looked over to check on Artur. Jorge was working on the wound. “How is he?”

Jorge spoke without looking up. “I think he’s going to be fine.” As Zane watched, Jorge used a knife to saw off part of the arrow about an inch from where it had entered Artur’s flesh. “I’m going to have to leave most of it in. I think the bleeding will be worse if I take it out.”

Zane hoped it hadn’t delivered poison into the Brazilian’s bloodstream. He’d read that some indigenous tribes still coated the tips of their arrows with secretions from the skin of the poison dart frog. The dose was so potent that death often came within minutes.

Without warning, the wailing began again, followed by several more arrows. Brett continued to fire random shots into the jungle, which seemed to help, but they needed something else. In a few minutes, the tribe would get used to the strange weapons, and once they did, they might make a full-frontal assault.

What they needed was to actually kill a few of the attackers. Killing them at such a distance might cause general panic.

“Three o’clock!” Brett shouted. Zane turned and saw that two tribesmen had crept toward them using the shadow cast by the mountain. As soon as they were spotted, they sprinted forward, wailing, their spears raised. They were painted in black, their eyes circled in white.

Dawanis.

Before Zane could react, Brett raised his pistol with two hands. He squeezed the trigger, but nothing happened. The gun had jammed.

The attackers seemed to sense their opportunity. They howled with delight and rushed the boulders.

Zane reacted instinctively, lifting his rifle. It would be risky shooting past Brett’s head, but he had no choice. Steadying his aim, he squeezing off two successive shots. The tribesmen stiffened, the wails dying in their throats. Both men wobbled for a moment before falling over. They were dead before they hit the ground.

The wailing died immediately. He doubted it would last, but at least it gave them time to regroup. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Zane reached down and removed his radio.

Jorge shook his head. “I’ve already tried. They don’t work here.”

“What?” Zane’s brow furrowed. “They have a range of several miles.”

Jorge nodded toward the slope of the mountain. “The only thing I can figure is that it’s something about the rocks.”

He had to try anyway, while there was a lull in the fighting. Lifting the radio, he tried to raise one of the Green Berets. There was only static in response. Zane cursed and slid the radio back in his pocket.

“What are they doing?” Brett hissed. “Things have gotten awfully quiet.”

“Hard to say,” Zane said. “We might have injected some fear into them, or they could be gearing up for an attack. If they do, we may be in some serious trouble.”

“Why do you say that?” Jorge asked.

Zane nodded toward the tree line. “My eyes and ears tell me there are at least several dozen archers back in those trees, which means there could be many more than that. If they decide to rush, we have no chance of bringing them all down, even with our semiautomatics.”

“I’m down to two magazines,” Brett said.

“They’ve seen what our weapons can do now, so the fear of the unknown may hold them off for a bit longer,” Zane continued. “In the meantime, I have an idea.” He moved to his left and lay down between the two boulders.

“What are you doing?” Brett asked.

“Just keep me covered. Make sure they don’t try to creep up on us again.”

After sorting through several options, Zane kept coming back to one in particular. If he could somehow kill the leader, the head of the snake, that might cause the others to lose the will to fight. They had already witnessed two of their own drop dead, and hopefully seeing the same thing happen to their chieftain would be too much.

Zane placed his rifle against his shoulder and used the scope to examine the jungle on the other side of the clearing. He focused on a large Brazil nut tree with lots of dense foliage. Each time the wailing commenced, it started with a shriek that seemed to come from there. Now it was just a matter of finding his man.

He moved the sights around, examining openings in the foliage, looking for movement or flashes of color.

Suddenly an arrow hissed out of the woods and glanced off the boulder on Zane’s left, missing him by about a foot.

“One of them is locked in on you,” Brett said.

Jorge scooted closer to him. “Whatever you’re doing… it’s too risky.”

“I need the two of you to watch the jungle,” Zane said without moving. “Let me know if it looks like they’re about to make a move. If they fire, fire back. I just need some time.”

Seconds later, another arrow glanced off the boulder to Zane’s right. Jorge and Brett responded immediately by returning fire.

As they kept the attackers occupied, Zane continued looking for his target. As he moved his scope back and forth, the wailing began again, only this time the cries were joined by the beating of drums. Zane’s heart thumped loudly in his chest. In all likelihood, they were preparing for an assault.

Just as he was about to move his scope, Zane caught a flash of color on the left side of the tree. He placed the sights on a small opening between two limbs. Something hovered in the shadows there. He moved his body a bit, giving himself a better angle. Suddenly he froze. Staring out of the foliage were two cold eyes rimmed in white.

Boom, boom, boom. Boom, boom, boom.
The drums continued, and the wails grew louder. The tribesmen were trying to whip themselves into a frenzy.

As Zane fixed on his target, rivulets of sweat ran down his forehead and into his eyes.

Boomboomboom. Boomboomboom.
The beat was faster now.

“I can see a couple of them crouching just inside the trees, preparing for an attack,” Brett said, his voice tinged with concern.

Zane spoke without turning his head. “Be prepared to fire if they come out, but not a second before.”

Zane realized his scope had shifted slightly, causing him to lose his target. He moved it back to the left.
Where was the opening?

The booming of the drums was building toward a crescendo, and the tribe seemed to be working itself into a state of delirium.

“They’re gathering at the forest edge,” Brett said. “I’m going to fire.”

“No, don’t shoot!” Zane shouted. “I need a few more seconds.”

He moved the scope sights around quickly, searching.

Got it!

“They’re coming!” Brett shouted.

“I said don’t shoot.”

The drums were beating so fast that they seemed like a beating heart. The tribesmen were seconds away from launching their attack.

“Zane!”

The loud crack of the gunshot pierced the air. The forest went silent, followed by the sound of a body snapping through the limbs on its way to the ground. A second later, it landed with a loud thud.

A long moment of silence was followed by the distinct sound of movement in the jungle. Were they attacking? Zane raised his rifle then lowered it again when he realized the footsteps were fading into the distance. The tribe was retreating.