Amazon Burning (A James Acton Thriller, #10) (6 page)

Surely
they would know that? Surely they would realize that he, a mere man, could
never take or harm a Spirit Person.

Unless
they think you somehow bewitched her.

It was
true. They had no way of knowing whether or not he was a medicine man, capable
of manipulating the Spirit World. They would probably work under the assumption
she had been taken against her will, which meant they would do everything
within their power to get her back, or at least ask her if she were here
against her will.

His
heart warmed with the knowledge that she had left willingly, had allowed his
dart, made by man, to penetrate her Spirit World skin, to allow the venom it
was laced with to take effect. He had been so shocked it had worked, for a
moment he had hesitated before actually carrying through with his plan.

She had
been silent since her initial call, a call which had elicited an excited
response, of that there was no doubt. Which had him wondering just what she had
said. If it was ‘goodbye’, then why would there be excitement at their camp? If
it was ‘help me’, then why was he able to take her if she, a Spirit Person, was
unwilling?

Maybe
what affects man affects Spirit People as well, if they are willing to be
treated as equals?

The
thought excited him. It meant the dart had knocked her out as it would a human,
and it gave him even more reason to believe she was here willingly. And if
things affected her the same as any other woman, should she be willing, then
she would be capable of loving him, of mating with him, and of being mother to
his children.

He
pressed on, more certain now than ever he had made the right choice, and his
life was about to finally turn around.

Acton had adjusted the flashlight to give as wide a beam as
possible, as had Reading, but it was slow going. Extremely slow. And it was
frustrating him to the point where he was almost of no use.

They had
no idea where they were going.

He
stopped, holding out an arm for Reading whose labored breathing was evident to
Acton, despite his friend’s attempts to disguise it. Acton aimed his light at
the ground. “We could be going in circles for all we know.”

“Or in a
straight line but in the wrong direction,” agreed Reading. “This is useless in
the dark.”

Acton’s
chest tightened as his friend said what he himself was thinking already. They
were liable to get themselves hurt or lost, and be of no use to Laura.

But he
had to go on.

“Here’s
what we’ll do,” he said, shining his light up between the two of them so they
could see each other’s faces. “You go back to camp, I’m going to continue forward
to the north, then swing back south in an arc and see if I can find any trace
of them. If I don’t, I’ll return to the camp by morning, if I do, I’ll send you
the coordinates and you and the others can join me.”

Reading
was shaking his head the entire time. “I’m not leaving you out here alone.”

Acton
put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Listen, I’ll be fine. I’ve been in
jungles before. But I’m worried about Greg. He’s weak, and he’s going to try to
stay awake the entire time. I need you to relieve him so he can get some rest.
Also, if those on the boat try anything, two against six is better than one man
who can barely walk.”

Reading
frowned at the sound logic. Acton pulled out the phone and activated the map,
showing their location relative to the river. They were painfully close, their
progress negligible. Acton pointed to their left. “Straight that way not even
half a mile. If you come to the river and don’t see the camp, you should be
within shouting distance. If not, go south.”

“Why
south?”

“Because
you’re right handed.”

“So?”

“So,
people tend to drift toward their dominant hand. If you go off course, you most
likely will go to the right slightly. Compensate by going left when you get to
the river.”

“And if
I drift too far?” asked Reading with a bit of comic attitude.

“Then
it’s been nice knowing you, I hope you find a nice native woman to settle down
with and make a few more babies.”

“Ha ha.
One marriage in a man’s lifetime is enough punishment.” He pointed out his
bearing. “Half a mile?”

Acton
nodded.

“Okay.
Stick to the schedule though. Contact me in thirty minutes.”

“Will
do. Now go.”

Reading
slapped Acton’s shoulder, his face grim, Acton easily able to see this was
tearing Reading apart, but they both knew this was the right decision. Milton
was weak and only getting weaker, and Reading was slowing Acton down. As he
watched his friend depart, he smiled.

“You’re
drifting!”

“Fowk
off!” came the reply as he disappeared into the trees. When the dancing of
Reading’s flashlight finally disappeared, Acton struck out directly north, his
flashlight examining the ground closely as he made a point to slow himself
down, but he soon realized it was useless. He’d have as much luck spinning on
his heel with his eyes closed and arm outstretched.

Let
nature be your eyes and ears.

It was
something he had been told once by a Navajo Indian years ago. He stopped,
closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing so as to minimize the sounds
coming from him. He took a knee, his own sway as he kept his balance
distracting. To his left, toward the river, he could hear the sounds of
something moving loudly.

Reading.

Something
screamed.

He spun
toward the sound, still kneeling, trying to focus on the direction. It wasn’t
human, it was some sort of animal, probably a primate, but it was a single
scream unfortunately not to be repeated. But if he wasn’t mistaken, it was
directly away from the river, deeper into the rainforest. The vast majority of
primates were diurnal, meaning they should be asleep at this time of night. If
one were disturbed it would scream just like the scream he had heard.

At least
that’s what his well-read mind was telling him. The truth was he had no idea,
but it was his only hope. Something had disturbed the creature, and he could
only hope it wasn’t some other animal native to the rainforest.

He
headed deeper into the darkness, toward what he hoped might be his stolen love
and her abductor, and in the distance behind him he heard a yell from Reading,
answered by another, and took comfort that his friend had made it back to
safety.

The Woman of Light moaned but Tuk continued forward. He had
unfortunately in his haste woken one of the many small primates that they
shared the forest with, its protest loud, and if the Spirit People were smart,
a beacon as to where he and his future mate were. It was essential he put as
much distance between him and the shore, the natural habitat of the Spirit
People. He prayed to the Mother that their powers would dwindle to nothing
should they get too far away from their home on the mighty river, and maybe by
daybreak they would be either too afraid to continue the pursuit, or they would
be mere men, mortals like him, with no advantages from the Spirit World.

She
moaned again and it was clear the dart was beginning to wear off. He quickly
laid her down then propped her up against a tree. He gently smacked her cheek
several times and the moaning increased. Suddenly her eyes fluttered open and
as she looked at Tuk, she appeared confused then she gasped, shouting out a
curious word, the same word he had heard when he took her the first time.

He
slapped his hand over her mouth as she was about to scream again.

“You
must stay quiet,” he said as calmly as he could. “I will not hurt you. Do you
understand me?”

Evidently
she didn’t.

What
language do the Spirit People understand?

He knew
they spoke to each other in a tongue foreign to him, unlike any he had ever
heard, not even from other neighboring tribes, but he had always assumed they
would be able to speak all languages.

But
what would be the need of that?

They
were the Spirit People. They would have no need to communicate with those like
him. They looked so different from him, their pale skin, their strange
coverings, that to think his people when they died became them was almost
unimaginable. It made him wonder whether the stories of what happened after
death were even remotely true. If these spirits weren’t his dead ancestors,
then where did the dead go? Was there even an afterlife?

The very
thought filled him with a fear and confusion he had no time for.
No
afterlife?
It was crazy, but here he was, the only one of his people he
knew to have seen one of the Spirit People so close.

What
if the Mother Herself isn’t real?

He felt
an anger build inside him as he stared at the terrified Woman of Light.
What
do you have to be scared of? You who would destroy everything I believe in!
She must have sensed his anger, and he took a deep breath, realizing it wasn’t
her fault. And was his faith so weak that it would fail within minutes of
questions being posed?

He would
need to speak to the medicine man, of that there was no doubt. And this one’s
spirit would need to be cleansed before she could become his mate. Perhaps
through their mating, she would learn his language and be able to answer the
questions that filled his mind, to assuage the doubts he now had, everything he
had believed in his entire life crashing down around him.

But for
now he had to get her out of here, her cry most likely heard by her friends.

He had
no idea how swiftly the Spirit People could move through the forest, but he had
to assume faster than him, at least while still close to the shore. He
desperately wanted to ask her, but instead motioned for her to keep quiet. She
nodded her head, just as he would if he understood someone, so assumed it meant
the same thing.

This
is so hard!

They
continued forward, this time with her at his side, his hand gripping her arm
tightly so she wouldn’t try to run away. And she didn’t, again reminding him
that she had come willingly.

Acton stopped again, listening, but there was no doubt at what he
had heard. It was Laura, calling for help. And from the tone, she was scared, and
not far. Within earshot in a forest filled with thousands of things to diffuse
sound and prevent it from carrying.

She was
close.

And
alive!

He
marked the spot on the GPS where he now stood in case he had to return to it
since it gave him a radius for any search in the morning to start from. Running
in the direction he thought he had heard her cry, he soon reduced himself to a
brisk pace, the root covered ground simply too dangerous to traverse in the
dark without eyeballing every foot placement with the flashlight. As he
continued forward he dialed the satellite phone.

“Milton
here.”

“Hi
Greg, it’s me. Got a pen and paper?”

“Yes.”

He gave
him the GPS coordinates. “Have any search start from there. I heard her call for
help due east of those coordinates. I don’t know how far her voice would carry,
but I can’t see it being more than a mile in this.”

“So
she’s alive.”

“She was
two minutes ago. Did Hugh make it back?”

“Yeah,
he’s on the radio now. I think he’s trying to reach the British Embassy but
isn’t having much luck.”

“Use the
phone.”

“We were
keeping it clear for your call.”

Acton
stumbled, almost dropping the phone and realized he needed to take a new
bearing. “Listen, contact Rita, and get her on the case. And Terrence.”

“Rita?
My secretary?”

“You
know what she’s like.”

He heard
Milton laugh. “Yeah, she won’t quit, that’s for sure. And Terrence?”

“Laura’s
grad student, he worships the ground she walks on. He won’t stop at his end
either. His number should be in the phone.”

“Okay,
I’ll make those calls right away.”

“Good.
I’ll check back in one hour.”

He
killed the call and checked the GPS. He was still heading in the right
direction, though trending a little to the right, or south. He continued
forward, compensating, his bearing on Laura’s voice in no way precise. When he
had travelled about a mile on the GPS he paused, listening some more.

This
is ridiculous! I’m guessing!

If
Laura’s abductor were carrying her over his back, he couldn’t be going very
fast. Not at night. Not through a jungle. He didn’t care who the person was,
they had to be slow. It had been an hour. That left at most a five mile radius
from the campsite, probably half that. He was about three miles from the shore
now and had kept a decent pace since he had heard Laura’s shout, so he should
be at least travelling at the same pace, if not making up some time.

But he
needed a bearing.

“Laura!”
he shouted as loud as he could, the jungle protesting with an eruption of
noise.

“James!”
came the reply almost immediately. To his left, to the north-east.

And
close.

“Laura,
it’s me!” he shouted. “Just stay alive! Just stay alive and I’ll find you!” He
knew he was giving away his position, and possibly hastening his opponent’s
escape, but he had to let her know there was hope. He marked the spot on the
GPS again, rushing forward as he dialed the phone.

Voicemail.

Greg
must be making those calls still.

He left
the coordinates and his new bearing then hung up, trying to keep himself moving
forward as quickly as possible without breaking a leg or twisting an ankle.
Suddenly he came into a small clearing, a fire smoldering in the center, mere
embers now. A shout to his left had him reaching for his gun when he thought
better of it, the tip of a spear now pressed against his throat.