Zane thought it was significant that Brett’s anomaly was in the same general area that Osak had indicated earlier. It seemed clear that there was a mountain there. He also had to admit he was intrigued by the Papaqua legends regarding the area around the peak. If they saw some sort of alien being, wouldn’t that qualify as a strange creature?
Brett broke the silence. “I think that settles the question of what we’re going to do once we get in there.”
“We go straight to the mountain,” Amanda said.
Katiya caught Zane’s eye. “I also think we need a certain someone to accompany us.” Before he could respond, she said, “He’s been with us less than an hour and has already provided loads of assistance. Just think how helpful he could be down in that crater.”
“I agree,” Zane said. “Except we’re not in the business of forcing people to do things against their will. It’s up to him.”
Brett looked at Max. “He said he was familiar with the crater. Has he actually been there?”
“He said he’s been to the rim once, but it was at night and he doesn’t remember much about it except that it was a long drop to the bottom.” Max nodded at the ground. “He believes the map Jorge drew is accurate. When the trail comes to the fork, we’ll need to continue straight ahead.”
Katiya looked at Zane. Reading her thoughts, he turned to Max. “Ask him if he’d be willing to come with us.”
The linguist spoke to the boy. His answers came surprisingly quick. When he finished, Max translated his words. “Good news. He said he’ll come with us, but only because he’s afraid our lives are in danger and he wants to protect us. He also said he has two days before his tribe will become concerned by his absence.”
“That’s wonderful.” Katiya beamed.
“Does he know how long it will take to get to the rim?” Jorge asked.
After retrieving an answer from Osak, Max said, “If we hurry, we might get there by nightfall.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Colonel Zheng Lee woke at dawn, hunger pangs gnawing at his stomach. He hated the jungle. The never-ending swarms of insects, the suffocating heat, the lack of a toilet, and now the persistent hunger. And if that weren’t enough, the frugal General Kong had insisted they get by on an exclusive diet of MREs. The only thing those skimpy meals did was keep the stomach acid at bay for an hour or so. Thankfully, Zheng had stowed away his own private supply of rice and fruits.
The colonel tried to force himself back to sleep, but to no avail. Not only was he hungry, but now his bladder was becoming painful as well.
With a loud grunt, he rose his knees. He flipped open the mosquito guard and crawled outside. He stood and stretched his muscles, jump-starting his circulation. Then he turned and made his way through the circle of tents, nodding at two guards who were coming off patrol.
After leaving camp, he continued over to the edge of the jungle about fifty yards away. The newly risen sun had not yet penetrated the thick canopy, but there was just enough light to get around without a flashlight. Finding his favorite clump of ferns, Zheng began relieving himself.
As he stood there, Zheng thought back on their meeting the night before. Apparently the Americans still had no idea what they might find, nor did they know anything about the place they were trying to get to.
Zheng cursed his superiors for sending them on this wild-goose chase. There was nothing out there in the middle of the jungle. After suffering for several days, they would discover what he already knew: the whole thing was a farce. Sure, they would be able to destroy the American team when the time came, exacting some measure of revenge for the dead Chinese Special Forces team, but at what cost? How many men would have to die?
Zheng’s bladder was mostly empty when he first felt the sensation that he was being watched. It was a sensation that he’d learned to heed. Turning slowly, he examined the tangle of jungle around him. If someone were hiding in the maze of lush vegetation, there was little chance he’d see them.
Seeing movement in his peripheral vision, Zheng looked to his left, down the line of trees. When he did, he flinched, causing a stream of urine to soak his pant legs. Standing twenty feet away was a native, his face decorated with reddish-orange stripes. He wore a skimpy loincloth, and a bow and a quiver of arrows were slung over one shoulder.
Zheng weighed his options. The boy couldn’t be old, perhaps late teens or early twenties, but the markings on his face gave him a menacing appearance. The colonel seemed to remember that the brighter the paint, the more deadly the tribe. Or was that poison frogs?
Zheng zipped his pants and turned toward the boy. His expression seemed peaceful, but looks could be deceiving. He was a savage at heart, and savages would kill if provoked.
His pulse quickening, Zheng slid his right hand into the front pocket of his pants. He was careful not to move it quickly, lest he alert the boy to what he was doing. Once inside, he patted his hand around then cursed. He’d left his pistol in his backpack.
What now? Should he run for the tents? That would probably mean certain death. It would take him ten to fifteen seconds to cover the distance, more than ample time for the boy to place several arrows in his back.
What about calling for his guards? It would only take seconds for them to arrive, and should the boy reach for his bow, Zheng could always dive into the bushes.
Pursing his lips, Zheng gave a quick, high-pitched whistle. Hearing nothing in response, he whistled again, this time louder.
Suddenly he heard movement. Turning his head slightly, Zheng saw guards moving out from the tents. They walked casually, unaware that anything was amiss. When they made it halfway to the clearing, the colonel lifted a hand. Once he had their attention, he pointed toward the boy. As soon they saw him, they stopped, startled.
“Cover me, you idiots!” Zheng hissed.
The two men raised their weapons slowly.
The boy suddenly became aware of their presence, and a look of confusion spread over his face. After staring for a moment, he reached into a pouch. Zheng stiffened. What was he doing? Much to his relief, the boy pulled out a piece of fruit. He stepped toward the men and lifted it in the air.
Zheng frowned. It looked like the boy was making some sort of peace offering. Should they accept it? It might be better to keep the natives on their side. Who knew how many were hovering in the trees around the camp. There could be hundreds watching them right now, although Zheng couldn’t see any evidence of that.
The guards looked at their commander warily, unsure how to react. Zheng signaled them to lower their weapons.
Zheng was about to start walking toward his men when something moved in the direction of the tents. He turned and saw a massive figure walking toward them. Ho Chen. The giant normally slept in but must have been awakened by the commotion.
Zheng turned back toward the boy and saw his eyes widen at the sight of Ho. He’d probably never seen any living creature as large as the one coming toward him. For the first time, a tinge of fear appeared on his countenance.
Ho strode toward the boy without hesitation. What was the idiot going to do?
“Be careful!” Zheng shouted. While Ho could crush any other human being in hand-to-hand combat, it would only take one well-placed arrow in the chest to bring him down. Even a man like Ho was susceptible to weaponry. And if Ho was killed, Beijing would hold Zheng responsible.
As Ho drew near, the boy extended the fruit in the palm of his hand.
The giant slowed at the sight of the food. Lieutenant General Huang had mentioned that Ho had the mental ability of a small child, so Zheng had no idea what to expect. The giant seemed confused at the boy’s offer of kindness.