Black Rain

He whipped around toward his screaming friends, just in time to see another shape fleeing from the space. It was bulky and black and dragging something with it. Hawker aimed and fired, lacing shells into the trees, trying to track the thing by the sounds of its movement, trying to lead it, but it was gone, vanished into the jungle and gone.

Danielle shouted to him. “Hawker!”

He ran over, dropping down beside her and unlocking her cuffs. Handing her the key, he stood guard while she freed the others. He lit a flare of his own and flung it out into the forest, hoping to light up anything that might come their way. The shadows flickered and jumped, but the jungle itself was still.

He glanced at the prisoners. Danielle and McCarter appeared unharmed. Brazos, the last of the porters, was alive but injured and struggling to stand. Roemer, Verhoven’s right-hand man, was gone. His cuffs lay on the jungle floor, bands of bloody skin shaved off and clinging to their edges. Something had ripped him from their hold.

In the far distance, they heard him scream.

“It dragged him right out,” Brazos said. “It bent my leg, my knee.”

McCarter helped Brazos to steady himself, as he could put no weight on the leg.

“What the hell was that?” Hawker asked. “A jaguar?”

“Not a cat,” Brazos said. “It stank, dank and rotten.”

Danielle agreed. “Whatever the hell it was, we need to get out of here before it comes back,”

Brazos hobbled and leaned on McCarter, his knee swelling where the animal had trampled him as it pulled Roemer from the cuffs.

“Get to the command center,” Hawker said. “Verhoven’s there.”

Without a word the survivors moved off, Brazos leaning on McCarter and Danielle. Hawker stayed behind, backing away from the forest, guarding their retreat. He glanced at the ground. The two-pronged tracks were unmistakable, the same tracks Verhoven had seen near the butchered animals, just before the Chollokwan attack.

The sound of human screaming reached him from deep in the bush. Hawker loosed a few shots in that direction, hoping to hit the animal or even the tortured soul it had taken with it, but he wasn’t going out there.

A minute later, at the center of camp, Richard Kaufman saw Hawker coming, saw the purpose in his step and the fury. He wedged himself against one of the light poles to stand. “I tried to tell—”

Hawker slammed him back against the pole before he could finish. “What the hell was that thing?”

Kaufman opened his mouth and blood trickled from the corner. He’d bitten through part of his tongue. “I don’t know what they are,” he said, turning to spit some blood onto the dirt. “They attacked my people in the cave.”

“What cave?” Hawker demanded.

“Beneath the temple,” Kaufman said. “They seem to guard this place. We could have killed them, but now that you’ve interfered there probably aren’t enough of us left to do the job. Once they feed on your friend, they’ll be back for the rest of us. And if what I’ve heard is correct, the natives who tried to burn you out will come along with them. Only this time they won’t hold back.”

Kaufman turned his head and spat out another mixture of blood and saliva. With his hands now taped together, the best he could do was wipe the side of his mouth against his shoulder. He addressed Danielle. “It seems you’ve brought your people in unprepared.”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” she said.

“Oh, I think you do,” Kaufman replied.

With the point of the rifle, Hawker physically turned Kaufman’s face away from Danielle. “You were talking to me,” he said.

Kaufman wanted to throw a few more shots at Danielle, enough to start her worrying about the lack of candor shown to her charges, enough to set the groundwork for a deal. And this was the time for it, but as he looked into Hawker’s burning eyes, he realized the man was unlikely to let him go on for long. He chose to proceed, hoping that Hawker’s response would not be fatal or otherwise permanent.

“Just pawns in the game, Ms. Laidlaw?”

Even before the last syllable had escaped his mouth, Hawker’s knee came crashing into his gut. Kaufman crumpled to the ground. As he rolled on the floor, mute and in pain, his eyes focused on Danielle.

She returned his stare, unblinking, and then turned toward the flashing screen of the laptop. The perimeter alarm had begun sounding once again.

CHAPTER 34

The NRI survivors spent the night crowded around the defense console, watching the perimeter for trouble. They had only two rifles and Hawker’s pistol for defense, but no one wanted to go out into the darkness to retrieve the weapons carried by the fallen men.

During the balance of the night the alarm went off a dozen times. Each time, the dogs howled, Verhoven brought the lights up and Hawker fired a handful of shots in the direction of the targets. Sometimes the targets scattered and other times they lingered, drifting slowly backward into the clutter of the forest until they disappeared from the screen; their true nature, as animal or man, went unrevealed.