‘They could be alive.’
The note went up an octave and a hand went to the hip.
‘You’re going to put us all at risk, aren’t you?’
Well, well, back to the Leila I knew. The only risk she was concerned about was the one to herself. I folded my arms.
‘You were right, Cooper. I can see that now. Like you said, we’re all gonna die if we stay here,’ she continued.
I said nothing. She tried a different angle.
‘You’ve lost someone because you made bad decisions. Don’t make the same mistakes again and get us all killed. This place is…’ She looked around, hunting for the right word but couldn’t find it. She clenched her fists in frustration and made a sound through gritted teeth.
‘Get ready to leave,’ I said. In fact, I wanted to leave her behind, staked out on the forest floor for the ants. I pictured doing exactly that, and it helped.
‘What’s there to smile about?’ she asked.
‘You don’t want to know.’
‘And my offer?’
The woman was a case. I turned my back on her, giving her my answer, and went to the ravine. I bent down, took off my gloves, and splashed water on my face. I could have used a long hot shower with a scrubbing brush. Standing up, I caught first Ryder’s eye and then Cas sidy’s. I signaled ‘on me’, and walked over to West, who was doing what he could to eradicate the signs of our presence. I put the conversation with Leila out of my mind, and decided not to say anything for the moment about the chat I’d had with LeDuc about Fournier. While I had a set of circumstances and a theory that seemed to fit, I had no hard evidence. Among our group there was a belief that bad luck had brought us all to our present circumstances. It would be counterproductive to exchange the fckle finger of fate for suspicion and the mistrust that would come with it.
I made a beeline for Rutherford, who was parked on a boulder, sharpening one of our acquired machetes with a river stone.
‘So what are we doing?’ Cassidy asked as he approached with Ryder. ‘Cyangugu’s that way,’ he said with a nod up the hill, ‘and Goma’s in the opposite direction.’
‘And unfinished business lies somewhere in between,’ West said.
‘Damn straight,’ said Cassidy.
‘We’ve picked up a few more guns since we last put this on the table, but otherwise not a lot has changed,’ I said. ‘ To even out the odds, we’d need something that makes plenty of noise and causes a lot of fright.’
‘The mortar operated by the rebels was a US infantry M224 lightweight company mortar system,’ said West. ‘And they were firing M49A4 high-explosive rounds — a good all-round anti-personnel, anti-material shell. You meaning something like that?’
‘That’d do it,’ I said, ‘but I think we’ve stirred the rebels up a little too much to get anywhere near their armory.’
‘Interesting bit of kit to have,’ Rutherford commented. ‘Wonder where they got it?’
I’d wondered as much myself, and filed it away with the questions I had about those M16s with their ground-off numbers.
‘If you’re a buyer, you’ll find a seller,’ observed Rutherford.
‘FARDC had RPGs — not a bad alternative,’ said Ryder.
They were, and it was a nice to see the guy paying attention to something other than Ayesha.
‘We penetrated their flanks once,’ said West. ‘Who’s to say we couldn’t do it again?’
‘Around a hundred and eighty guys with guns,’ I said. ‘We were lucky. And there’s still the problem of getting everyone out once we go loud. That’s where something that made big holes in the ground would come in handy.’
Rutherford absently popped the mag in his M4 and checked it. ‘Sounds like one of your half plans is in the wind.’
‘Let’s move it,’ Cassidy suggested. ‘Our intel gets staler with every passing minute.’
Frankly, after two days it was growing mushrooms, but it seemed like we were emotionally committed at least to reconnoitering the FARDC positions to see whether there was anything left to rescue. For all we knew, by now it might all chopped up into handy-to-dispose-of lengths.
Retreat
We followed the ravine, successive foods having washed away some of the undergrowth along its flank, making it easier going than cutting a path through the forest, which was mostly impenetrable. The space between the trees was occupied by a malicious variety of elephant grass battling with entanglements of vegetation hung with brightly colored banded snakes that screamed ‘hazardous’. Occasionally, the forest swallowed the ravine and we had no choice but to hack our way through the tangles of liana and elephant grass. Overhead, birds screeched at each other like inmates in an asylum and animals darted away, unseen, through the compacted undergrowth nearby. None of these were going to be fuffy white rabbits, so I was fine with the darting-away thing.
And, just as I was thinking that, a nearby wall of bush trembled with something very big that departed in a hurry. We all froze.
‘LeDuc, didn’t you say we’d be lucky to see any wildlife?’ I asked him quietly.
‘Oui,’ he whispered, looking around. ‘Perhaps this valley is too remote for the bush meat hunters.’
‘What other predators live here besides lions?’
‘Every one you can think of, and many you cannot.’
There were no stragglers in our line after that. We stayed close and watched each other’s backs, and brushed away the spiders and insects that dropped or alighted on us, before stingers, jaws or fangs could get to work.
Up ahead, Ayesha screamed and broke into a kind of dance, jumping around, her hands whipping through her hair, jerking forward and backward. Leila began slapping at her, like they do at NASCAR races when someone in the pits gets engulfed in those invisible methanol flames. Rutherford called this ‘the spider dance’. We’d all done it; all of us except Cassidy, that is, who moved like a leopard through his surroundings — flowing from one space to another, disturbing nothing. Ryder caught up with Leila and Ayesha, to lend a hand. The guy was sure putting in some heavy spadework.
I watched Boink’s meaty shoulders roll from side to side as he walked. The guy had lost a dozen pounds at least. A week in this place and he’d need a new wardrobe. I was about to point this out to him when something wet landed on my shoulder. The stuff reeked. More of it smacked against the side of my head and, suddenly, the trees above us came alive with yelling, shrieking and chattering, and black shapes charged out of the bushes at us, running and scampering down our line, feinting in and out, teeth bared.
‘Hey! Aggro little hairy guys,’ said Rutherford, amused, shouldering his weapon.
‘Ne tirez pas! Don’t shoot, don’t shoot. Les chimpanzés, chimpanzés.’ LeDuc rushed forward and pulled down on the gun’s barrel.
‘Who’s going to shoot?’ Rutherford protested, offended.
I watched as one of the chimps crapped into his buddy’s hands and then threw it at Rutherford. The Brit ducked. I was too slow and the stuff slapped into my face.
‘Thanks,’ I said as I wiped away the warm, stinking mass.
‘Do not look at them in the eyes,’ LeDuc warned. ‘They will think you are challenging them.’
‘Poo at twenty paces?’ I asked.
‘Keep moving!’ Cassidy called out and we lifted the pace to clear the area.
We stuck to the ravine for the best part of two hours, taking advantage of the clean water and the sunlight and the relatively easy going. Eventually the forest closed in overhead again. We were back to slashing into the bush for every yard of forward movement, dodging reptiles and arachnids, and the elephant grass with its razor’s edge, all of which seemed intent on attacking exposed skin. But with every step bringing us nearer to the territory occupied by FARDC, taking to the cover of the forest was going to be a healthier option than being out in the open and easy targets for snipers, pickets and patrols.