After a long silence, Ngeze lowered his mouth and breathed sickly into the boy’s ear. “Look at your mother,” he whispered.
Janvier’s eyes remained fixed on his mother, visibly shaking.
“Tell me where your friends are, or this is the last you will remember of her.”
76
Under the glow of the full moon, John Clay tugged and tested the strength of the small nylon tent. Thick white straps traveled to the ground on either side, secured to the damp Earth. The ground, covered in grass, was surrounded by dense forest, but left a large enough clearing to provide room to camp for the night.
DeeAnn turned from the primates, busily eating in the darkness, and grinned. “For us?”
Clay nodded. “It’s not the Ritz, but it should keep you dry. Assuming none of you get claustrophobic.”
He then moved away and knelt next to a small propane burner heating a single pan. A wrinkled strip of foil was wrapped around the bottom to block the light from the flame.
She frowned. “That actually smells pretty good. What is it?”
“Shepherd’s pie.”
“Really?”
Clay smiled back at her. “MREs have come a long way.”
“I thought you guys ate trail mix or something,” DeeAnn teased. “Or grubs.”
“We used to, but a man can only carry so much salt and pepper.”
DeeAnn laughed. “That, I believe.” She turned to find Dulce approaching the tent, studying it carefully. The gorilla gently pushed at the opening flap and looked inside, fascinated.
What this?
“It’s called a tent.”
The vest on DeeAnn’s chest beeped. “A place to sleep,” she corrected.
Dulce seemed to grow more excited and stepped inside. She remained still for a long time, with her head under the flap.
Clay laughed. “It’s not that big.” After a moment of watching, he asked, “Is she still all right?”
“Yes. She’s in her element. Somehow she remembers. The smells and the sounds. She knows what this place is.”
There was a nervousness in DeeAnn’s voice — something she was clearly worried about and something Clay had a suspicion about. He didn’t push.
Instead they both watched with amusement as Dulce climbed into the tent and moved around. Her head created a round bump in the fabric that followed her.
Dexter remained nearby on top of a fallen tree, laying in two pieces and broken near the base. Ignoring Dulce’s exploration of the tent, he continued chewing through a large green leaf while still watching the trees.
An unexpected noise from the forest caused Clay to rise quickly to his feet where he unslung the Beretta M12 from his shoulder in a smooth motion. He lowered it quickly when Steve Caesare emerged from the tree line with his own gun crossed in front of him.
He approached, nodding at Clay. “Nothing around for a good fifty yards. A bit further is a stream with fresh water. We can fill up in the morning.” Caesare noticed the movement inside the tent and quickly scanned the area. Finding Dulce missing, he looked to the tent again and shook his head.
“I guess she’s never seen a tent before.”
“Nope.”
Caesare turned to Clay, who remained silent. He followed his gaze over to the smaller monkey, still quietly chewing. “Something wrong?”
Clay squinted. “Have you guys noticed Dexter?”
“What do you mean?”
“He hasn’t been talking much. Even to Dulce.”
“That’s not too uncommon.”
“And he keeps watching the forest,” Clay added.
They all stared at the monkey for a long moment. DeeAnn abruptly turned and walked to the tent where she held up the front flap and faced her vest at Dulce.
“Come here, Dulce.”
The bump in the fabric stopped and turned. After moving slowly toward the exit, the little gorilla abruptly poked her head out.
“Dulce. What’s wrong with Dexter?”
After the translation sounded, the gorilla looked at her friend. She then carefully stepped back out of the tent and onto the moist ground.
Wrong?
“Is Dexter okay?”
Still staring at him, Dulce tilted her head. Without a word, she bolted across the grass and back toward the fallen log. She stopped next to him and stared at the trees, then turned and grunted, followed by several gestures.
His high-pitched response was short.
Dulce turned and spoke to DeeAnn. But her vest didn’t catch it.
She moved closer to the gorilla. “Repeat, Dulce.”
The gorilla’s response was as short as Dexter’s. And when it was translated through the vest, the reply caused Clay and Caesare to stiffen.
Someone follow.
77
Both men instinctively raised their guns. “What?!”
Someone follow, Dulce repeated. In trees.
Clay and Caesare were immediately in motion. Raising their guns higher, they swept back and forth in opposing directions.
“Get them away from the trees!” Clay barked. “Behind the tent!”
DeeAnn immediately grabbed Dulce’s hand and wrapped an arm around Dexter, pulling him from his perch with a loud squeal.
“Quiet!” Caesare exclaimed in a loud whisper. He knelt down next to the tree and continued scanning.
“You hear anything?” Clay asked.
“No.”
Clay turned and searched for cover. If they were in the trees in front of them, then they were likely in the trees behind them too. He backed up and reached behind himself to turn off the small burner, extinguishing the flame and its faint glow.
Clay then grabbed both of their packs and dragged them backward toward the tent, dropping them in front of DeeAnn. He pushed her lower. “Lay down. And get them down.”
Out in front, Caesare suddenly held up a hand and pointed two fingers in front of him toward two o’clock. Something, or someone, was moving.
He glanced over his shoulder at Clay, then pointed to himself, making a circling motion around the target.
Clay nodded.
With that, Caesare quickly rose to his feet and moved to the left, in the direction he had just emerged from. Trotting heel to toe over the ground, he moved smoothly and disappeared back into the trees.
DeeAnn watched Clay pull the packs in closer to her and the primates. Her heart was pounding with her chin touching the ground and one protective arm over Dulce. Dexter seemed to sense the danger, and even after squeezing free, remained low.
Above them, Clay hovered on one knee and scanned the darkness behind them. Listening.
Caesare was moving low and fast. Swerving in and out of narrow trees trunks and patches of bamboo. He ducked under a wide sprawling fern and stopped beneath it.
Nothing.
He waited. Controlling his breathing. Listening between breaths. If there was someone out there, it was best to reach them first and use the element of surprise. If it were a bigger group pursuing them, the last thing they would expect would be an attack.
Caesare calmed his breathing further, forcing the cool air in through his nose. He held his breath for a few seconds before gently exhaling.
And then he heard it.
It was slight. Barely loud enough to reach him. But it was there — a soft scrape against one of the trees. A scrape that an animal with fur would not make.
Caesare studied the ground in front of him, using what little moonlight he had, and surged forward.
After another twenty feet, he stopped again and waited.
Nothing.
He continued pushing forward, slowly.
Not far away a dark shadow moved between the trees, stopping behind a thicker trunk. He could see parts of the tent in the distance, sitting quietly in the small clearing.
The figure crept closer to see more of the area. There was no longer any movement. Or sound.
Their voices had stopped. They must have detected something.
The dark figure reached behind his back and began to withdraw an object when he promptly felt the cool sensation of a gun barrel press firmly into his right cheek.
Steve Caesare’s deep voice whispered behind him, “Nice night for a walk.” When the figure began to gently turn, Caesare pressed harder. “Nope. You move again, and you’re going to need a whole new set of dentures, capisce?”
The stranger nodded.
“How many others?” Caesare asked, looking over the man’s shoulder.
“None.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Just you?”
“Yes.”
Caesare finished scanning and looked down. “Drop your hands.”
The man complied.
Caesare stepped back and pulled the gun away from his cheek, silhouetted in the moonlight. “Now raise them up on top of your head.”
When the figure complied, Caesare next instructed him to turn around slowly. Watching as the figure turned towards him, the intruder’s face became only partially visible in the shadows.
Caesare glanced behind himself and stepped back further. “Walk towards me.”
The stranger stepped forward, led by Caesare, and eventually emerged into the light.
Once he saw the man’s face, Steve Caesare’s expression changed beyond surprise to a look of shock. He shook his head in disbelief. “You have got to be kidding.”