Another APC appeared right behind it. Then another.
The army was here all right, but not to rescue them from the rebels. The two groups had joined forces to hunt down the last survivor of the scientific expedition.
This was why Bishop didn’t believe in luck.
He slung the M240 across his back and melted into the forest.
23
To Felice’s surprise, they didn’t run far. Just a few minutes after their flight began, Knight stopped in his tracks and hissed for her to join him. He pointed to the base of a tree that looked no different than any of the hundreds of others they had passed.
“There.”
She didn’t immediately understand what he meant, but assumed he had some kind of plan. He knelt at the base of the tree and thrust his hands into the accumulation of decaying leaf litter. She heard him give a little grunt of pain as he drew up a double armful of debris and soil, but he kept at it until he had scooped out a hollow large enough for both of them to lie in.
“Bishop said to keep moving.”
“I know what he said.” Knight spoke through clenched teeth, but Felice could not tell if he was in pain or merely irritated with her. Given his wounds, she thought it must be the former, but he wasn’t letting it slow him down. “Trust me. This is what I do.”
She acceded to his wishes and lowered herself into the hole he had dug. He knelt beside her and went to work filling the hollow with the material he had removed. Felice could not fathom what it was about this particular place that had prompted him to choose it as a hiding place, but she took comfort in his assurance. She knew better than to question his expertise — her survival depended on it.
As he piled the leaves on top of her, Felice experienced an instinctive panic at the thought of being buried alive, but the debris was no heavier than a blanket, and when he was done, there were large gaps — albeit artfully concealed — through which to breathe and see.
“We need to stay perfectly still,” Knight said softly, almost breathing in her ear.
“How long?”
“Hard to say. Hours. Maybe days. Is that going to be a problem?”
“What if I need to pee?”
She had meant it as a joke to lighten the mood, but Knight took the question seriously. “You’ll have to hold it. The smell of urine might give us away.”
Felice sniffed. The odor of rotting vegetation was so overpowering, she couldn’t imagine anyone being able to make the distinction, but once more she deferred to his judgment. “Wonderful.”
“What happened to my eye?”
The whispered question stung her like a slap. She didn’t know how to answer him.
“It’s gone, isn’t it?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know. Sometimes injuries like that look a lot worse than they are. Doctors can do amazing things…” Her voice trailed off. She meant what she said, but it sounded like a lie in her ears. Maybe a skilled ocular surgeon could repair the kind of damage he’d sustained, but they were a long way from anywhere with that level of medical care. She wasn’t sure how they were going to make it to Kisangani, much less whether they would ever see America again.
Knight didn’t say anything for a long while after that, and at first Felice was grateful for the silence, but the complete lack of movement or conversation made the minutes pass with interminable slowness. Finally, she could stand it no more.
“By the way,” she whispered, “I’m Felice. It’s Knight, right?”
Knight grunted an affirmative, which she took as a good sign. At least he hadn’t told her to shut up.
“And your friend is Bishop. I’m guessing those aren’t your real names.”
“No. My real name is Shin Dae-jung.”
“Should I call you Shin?”
“If you want. In Korea, the surname comes first, then the given name.”
“Maybe I’ll just stick to Knight.”
He laughed softly, which Felice took to be an encouraging sign. “That’s probably a good idea. Honestly, I’ve been Knight for so long, I hardly even remember my real name.”
“You took those names from chess pieces, right? You’re some kind of special military unit, and those are your callsigns?”
“Well, I could tell you, but… you know.”
“I know — well, knew — a guy who calls himself King. Friend of yours?”
“Seriously? Wait… shhhh.”
The change was so abrupt that she thought he might be joking, but given the circumstances, it was better to err on the side of caution. She immediately clammed up, sucking in a breath and holding it, lest the sound of her inhalations give their position away. Felice strained to catch some hint of noise, but the only sound she heard was the lub-dub of her own heartbeat. Eventually, the burn of carbon dioxide in her lungs forced her to resume normal breathing, but during all that time, Knight was as still as a corpse. Then, without any sort of warning, he sat up like Lazarus risen from the dead.
“Bish!” Knight hissed the word, barely louder than a whisper. “Over here.”
Felice sat up as well. She didn’t see the big man at first, and when she finally did, he was so far away that she wondered how Knight, with only one good eye, had seen him.
Bishop trotted toward them, smiling. “Pick up,” he said. “They’re coming. We have to move.”
“And go where?” Knight asked. “We’re better off digging in and letting them pass by. Then we can get back to the LZ.”
Bishop shook his head. “There is no LZ. A mechanized infantry company is between us and the lake, and they’re sweeping this way. Then there are the rebels.”
Up to this point, Felice had been content to stay quiet, but she found this news too unsettling. “You’re saying the Army is after us?”
Bishop nodded. “It looks like they’re trying to form a cordon around this section of the jungle. They’ll surround us and then close the noose. We need to get moving, break through before they can complete the circle.”
Knight hauled himself to his feet, wincing and favoring his left arm. Felice got up as well, and realized that both men were staring at her. “What?”
“Somebody’s going to a lot of trouble to make sure that no one from your expedition makes it back,” Bishop said. “I’m wondering what a geneticist in the backwater of Africa could do to piss off so many people.”
“Geneticist?” Knight said with a frown. He looked at Bishop, who just shook his head as if to say later.
Felice sensed there was something important about their aversion toward her profession, but without further explanation, she let it go. Instead, she simply said, “The explanation is a little technical.”
“Then it will have to wait. We need to move.”
24
They trekked for nearly four hours, moving deeper into the forest in what Bishop hoped was a straight line. When they came upon the occasional clearing, he was able to verify that they were still moving west by the location of the sun, but under the jungle canopy, there was no way to be sure that they weren’t wandering in circles. There had been no sign of pursuit, but in the dense jungle, Bishop knew that the rebels could be anywhere.
Knight had kept up with Bishop’s relentless pace, managing better than Felice, but he grew more listless as the day wore on. Bishop felt concerned, but there was nothing more he could do for his friend.